The Giant's Ring
by RixxiSpooks
Summary: When a dark force threatens more than just the Kingdom of Camelot but all of Great Britain, Merlin and Arthur must travel to Ireland and the Giant's Ring in search of the old magic that can defeat it...
1. Shadows

**Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of its characters though I'd willingly bid for them if they were to come on sale. :D**

**Okay, this idea sprouted from a thing I really wanted to do with Merlin for ages but, me being me, made what could've been a one-shot into a multi-chap fic. I really shouldnt be starting any new fics what with all the work I have but....I couldnt help it! Anyway, you will read the bit that is the stem of all this in one of the future chapters. Not this one. **

**I hope you enjoy. **

_It is often believed that Merlin created the circle of stones that stands tall and proud in the south of this great country. The legend has it that Aurelius Ambrosius, brother of Uther Pendragon, ordered Merlin, the wizard, to erect a magnificent burial place for him to lie at his death. It would be in the heart of England; a grave for all the Kings to be put to rest. But what if that wasn't why the impossible ring of stones was created…_

Underwater there was no sound, just silence and tranquillity. It was a bubble of peace in which to rest and relax. Nothing could penetrate the quiet of the dark, gloomy abyss. As he hung there, not moving, deeply submerged by the heavy water, he had time to think, to observe. His eyes picked out tendrils of plants waving like hundreds of arms and huge jagged crops of rocks teeming with all sorts of life. These creatures were so strangely exotic, alien almost, in an alien world. Entranced by their movement and understated elegance, he ignored the need for air that was slowly creeping through his lungs. There was no time for breath when he could watch this mysterious and enrapturing place. He didn't want to leave.

Suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, cold and unwelcome, it yanked at him roughly. He shrugged it off. Still, the hand persisted, scrabbling desperately at the slippery skin. When it found no grip, the hand was joined by another and they snaked further down his body and wrapped themselves firmly round his back, joining on his chest. Then, with some shock, he found himself being hauled painfully upwards towards the light.

* * *

They burst through the surface. Arthur kept his arms circled strongly around his manservant's skinny body. He had to fight hard to stop Merlin slipping through his grasp entirely. Panting heavily, he was worried by the fact he could feel little movement from the cool, wet boy clutched to his chest. Was he even breathing? There was no time to think about that now; he needed to get both of them to the shore. With immense effort, Arthur kicked himself and Merlin onto the bank of the lake.

Once up on dry land, the prince felt he had time to check his manservant properly. Arthur laid the unmoving form of his friend out on the pebbly ground - in hindsight, it would probably have been more comfortable for Merlin to be lain on a softer surface - there was no time though. The boy looked completely pale, like an even snowier version of his previous self. His lips looked horribly blue and his raven hair was slicked back from his forehead onto the crown of his skull making him look gaunt and skeletal.

"Merlin! Wake up!" Arthur knelt beside his manservant and shook him vigorously. There seemed to be no response. What did he do now?

It was ridiculous, Arthur thought as he stared at his unconscious friend with distress. Only a few moments ago the two of them had been splashing around in the lake like two young boys – flicking water and dunking each other. They had come down through the woods to have a refreshing bathe considering the weather was so hot and unrelenting. Arthur had dived in first – with all his clothes on because he couldn't be bothered to unchange - and then Merlin had followed a little more cautiously. However, he'd soon been having fun. Arthur had looked away for a second and when he turned back his friend was no where to be seen.

An icy fist had gripped the prince's heart at that moment and twisted painfully. Looking out at the empty lake, he had felt the fear building inside him. To start with he'd told himself it was fine and that Merlin would pop up in a moment. When he hadn't, Arthur had plunged beneath the surface in search of his manservant. After much frantic hunting he'd found Merlin sort of suspended in the middle of the lake, not moving, just staring blank eyed at the ground. It had been a terrifying sight and the young man had struggled to grab his friend and pull him to safety.

"Merlin! Please, just wake up! Look at me Merlin!" Arthur leant over the dark-haired boy, his eyes creased with worry.

"And why would I want to look at you?" came the croaky reply. The prince's head snapped up and he stared in relief at Merlin who had the cheek to raise an eyebrow at him. He looked at little worse for wear but at least he was alive – he had his sense of humour after all.

"Merlin, you _idiot_, you scared me half to death."

"I scared you? Aw, _Arthur_, were you really worried about me?" Merlin looked questioningly at him. There was an amused tinge to his voice.

"No! Yes – no…why should I be worried about you? I was worried about having to get a new manservant because my old one was stupid enough not to realise he needed to breathe. No matter how much you act like one, Merlin, you are not a fish." Arthur felt his answer had sufficed and that Merlin wouldn't read too much into it. Maybe if he kept the attention on his friend then the boy wouldn't realise how much he had meant by that statement. "Why the hell did you stay under for so long anyway? I thought you could swim?"

"I can," the warlock replied, indignantly. Despite his reaction to Arthur's words he wasn't really sure why he had stayed underwater for so long that he'd almost drowned. As he tried to think back he didn't seem to be able to recall anything. He felt as if that part of his memory was shrouded in some kind of obscuring mist. "I don't really know," Merlin admitted, looking his master in the eye.

"You are an odd one, Merlin, you know that?"

"I think you've told me before."

"Well, let's get back to the castle and get dry."

As the two young men gathered their things and made their way through the forest and back up to the Castle of Camelot they were not aware that they were being watched. Thirty pairs of eyes of eyes stared after them – glinting red in the darkness of the undergrowth. Their game had been ruined but no matter, they had plenty of other people with which to play The Game with…

* * *

King Uther sat stiffly in his hard backed wooden chair surveying the crowd of people filling his hall, all clamouring to him for attention. There were varying looks of desperation and pleading on their faces but the essential emotion was still the same - fear. Some were old, some young and they all wanted his attention. As the sound was reaching its climax and an elderly woman began screeching like a banshee, Uther decided that it was time for him to address his people. He levered himself slowly to his feet.

"My people," he began and silence fell over the rabble, he nodded his approval, "I may be your King but even I cannot answer all your questions and help you all if you behave like rowdy animals. Order must be maintained in the Court of Camelot even in such uncertain times. Now, will someone – _a _spokesman for you all – tell me what exactly is going on?"

For a few seconds there was no movement, just a lot of murmuring between people as they debated who would speak, until they finally decided on an old man with silvery grey hair and a whiskery chin. He pushed himself through the mob and right in front of the King's line of vision. Uther encouraged him to speak.

"My lord, it is rumoured some _dark _force has come to Camelot," he said in a delicate, ethereal voice. Uther raised an eyebrow. He couldn't believe they had _yet _another monster plaguing the townspeople. Did they just attract trouble?

"What is it this time? A flying horse that breathes fire?" Uther asked sarcastically. His patience wore thin when it came to magic. If this was what had riled the villagers then he was sorely disappointed.

"No, your majesty," the man shook his head empathetically; "This is something _much _worse. They are beings of unearthly nature - they do not take physical forms - they are Shadows."

"If they are shadows, then what harm can they cause?" Uther frowned.

"Not shadows but _Shadows_, sire, mythical beings. They terrorise us!" What was the difference, the King thought.

"How?!"

"They control our minds; manipulate our thoughts and feelings. They are murderers, my lord, it is their game to kill as many living creatures as possible – animals and humans alike. They play their mind games and lead unsuspecting townsfolk to their death. Twenty people have died already at their hand!"

"Can you see them?"

"Not often."

"Then how can you be sure they have caused these deaths?" Uther was eternally sceptical.

"We just are, sire," the old man was so certain of his word that the King of Camelot found he had to believe him.

"All right, I will order my son and his knights to rid the kingdom of these demons. Then maybe we will have some peace."

"Thank you, my lord," the man smiled toothily and bowed his head in respect. The rest of the room did the same and then left quietly.

* * *

Arthur had just changed out of his sopping wet clothes, his teeth chattering with the cold, and into a thick warm tunic and trousers when a messenger rapped on the door. He permitted the man to enter and he delivered the order from the King that Arthur must attend his chambers immediately. With a sigh of annoyance, the young blond man followed the servant from the room.

On his way to the Great Hall he bumped into Merlin who was still drenched from head to foot with lake water and stank to high heaven. He frowned in surprise and asked his friend why had was not changed yet. Sheepishly, the young man informed him that Gaius had left for the day to visit a sick relative in one of the outer villages and had locked his chambers. Merlin had forgotten to take his key.

"You really are a prune, Merlin," Arthur shook his head as he watched his servant shivering uncontrollably in the corridor. "Go back to my chambers and grab something from my wardrobe. Don't take anything too fancy, mind, or my father may notice. Then come to the Great Hall, I have to have a meeting with the King so you can come too."

"T-thanks, s-sire," the warlock stuttered his gratitude and then fled down the passage in the direction Arthur had just come from. The prince himself continued on his way.

* * *

"…and these Shadows, Arthur, they seem to be lethal so you must be extra vigilant. I don't want a repeat of that Questing Beast incident again." King Uther finished his speech and then stared at his son expectantly; waiting for him to pass comment or make a judgement on anything that had been said. Unfortunately, he was not going to receive one because Arthur had hardly been listening.

Ever since the doors to the hall had creaked open ever so quietly and a tall, slim figure had slipped through, Arthur had neglected to hear his father's words. His attention was too focussed on what Merlin was wearing. The manservant must have delved deep into the recesses of Arthur's wardrobe because what he had found was nothing that the prince recognised. If he hadn't known he'd told Merlin to get clothes from his own quarters then he wouldn't have registered they were his.

The usually uniformly scruffy servant was wearing a pair of black trousers that were obviously too big for him width-wise. They were common enough, Arthur supposed, but it was the shirt that had caught his attention. As it was one of his it was very revealing in the chest area. Whereas Merlin usually covered his neck with his scarf or when he forgot his scarf his shirts were pretty high collared anyway, Arthur liked to reveal as much of his chest that was possible. Now he could see the creamy skin of his manservant's breast bone. The colour of the shirt itself complimented Merlin's colouring too – it was pastel and understated so it didn't make him look too washed out and dull. It was a very pale green – celadon in fact – and was slightly bluish too so it brought out the blue of the servant's vibrant eyes.

The boy's hair was all mussed up too, adding to the effect. Raven-black tufts were sticking up all over the crown of his head, no-doubt having dried like that after being soaking wet. He looked very endearing.

Arthur wasn't really sure why he was viewing his servant in such a light. In all honesty he sounded like he was attracted to the clumsy boy but he really wasn't. He could never see Merlin as anything more than a friend but he was still allowed to observe a friend's looks wasn't he? Women often said how handsome he, Arthur, was – heroic and muscular – but Merlin, in his own way, had a sort of masculine beauty about him. That was what he was realising now, no wonder Gwen seemed smitten with him. Somewhere, deep in some corner of his heart, he felt a twinge of envy but passed over it swiftly. He couldn't think about her like that.

"Arthur? Have you been listening?"

"Hmm…..yes, Father!" Arthur managed to snap to attention and draw his eyes from his manservant. "You want me to find these Shadows and kill them, got it."

"Good, you may leave now."

* * *

Merlin had been dismissed from his duties that day because Arthur had headed off into the town in search of these Shadows. The warlock had wanted to go with them, to protect them, but the prince had forbid him, telling him it was too dangerous for a servant – especially one with such poor fighting skills – to pursue mythical beasts. Hopefully, one day, Arthur would realise just _what _fighting skills he had but until that time Merlin had to remain at the castle.

Therefore, the raven haired boy was wandering aimlessly round the castle corridors, contemplating on whether he should go and find Gwen and bother her for a few hours until Gaius came back and opened their chambers. Just as he made the decision that that would pass the time and make him much less bored, he heard it.

_Merlin…Merlin? I know you can hear me. You need to listen to me; I have something very important to tell you. Merlin! The kingdom and the young Pendragon's life depend on it._

It was the Dragon. The realisation hit Merlin hard and he growled inwardly. He had promised himself that he would never set foot in that cavern again. That Dragon had almost caused the death of his mother and Gaius, why should he listen to anything he said?

_If you do not come, Merlin, the young Pendragon __**will **__die. I can promise you that. _

However, he reminded himself, that the Dragon had helped him numerous times; it may be because he wanted to escape but he did know a lot of things. His knowledge had proved invaluable to Merlin.

_Merlin! It is about the Shadow creatures! I must warn you! Come now! _

Despite his earlier resolve and the personal promise he'd made to himself, Merlin couldn't help feel drawn to the Dragon's lair. If he knew something that Merlin and Arthur didn't about these Shadows then they could all be in mortal peril. Taking a deep breath, the young warlock made his way down the stone steps into the cold belly of the Castle.

* * *

"Ah, young warlock, you came." For the first time ever the Dragon was actually already sitting on his rocky perch when the boy arrived. He offered Merlin a smile; it was not returned.

"Tell me about the Shadow creatures and this time _no riddles_. Got that?" The boy was surprised by the authority in his voice.

"Hostility will not help matters, warlock. However, I will, as you asked _so _nicely, riddle my words _less_."

"Go on then," Merlin persisted, impatiently. Why was the Dragon taking so long if it really was so important surely he would have spat it out already? Arthur was already in pursuit of the Shadows and if he could not defeat them time was running out – fast.

"The Shadows were forged from Dark Magic. This was not the work of Nimueh before you ask. You _did _kill her – she cannot return. I cannot tell you who cast the Dark Magic – your destiny will provide you with an answer to that. They have been released to cause havoc in your kingdom; in fact, the entirety of Britain is under threat. That is why it is so important you destroy them."

"Uther has sent _Arthur_ out to destroy them," Merlin interjected.

"I know, that is where the danger lies, without you he is helpless."

"What?! Then I must go!" The warlock turned towards the exit, ready to sprint up the flight of stairs and head straight into town in search of Arthur.

"Not so hasty, young warlock," the Dragon had the cheek to laugh heartily. Merlin glowered at him, "The Shadows will not strike him yet. They tend to go for weaker targets first. I am sure he will have a stronger mind than most. Having said that…they went for you didn't they?"

"Huh?"

"You almost drowned."

"Yes?"

"That was the Shadows, they tricked your mind. If Arthur hadn't come into save you…well…" the Dragon didn't finish his sentence.

"Well, they wouldn't have known I was anything other than a servant, would they? I would appear to be just as weak as the rest of them," Merlin suggested.

"Ah, correct."

"So what do I need to do to defeat them?"

"Your magic can't defeat them."

"What? But you just said..."

"Not on its own. It will have a part to play in the fight but it cannot do it single handed. To defeat such Dark Magic you need to use very strong old magic. This magic will be found in Ireland at the Giant's Ring."

"The Giant's Ring? What? What do you mean?" Merlin asked, confusedly.

"That's all I can tell you."

"You said you would tell me no riddles."

"And I have not! Young warlock, I have even given you the destination of your quest, what more can you want?" As the Dragon boomed this, he bunched up the huge muscles in his legs and launched into the air before vanishing into the great chasm above.

Merlin was left feeling severely perplexed and more than a little annoyed. It was then he remembered what the Dragon had said about Arthur being completely helpless and he set off – at a run…

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	2. Suicide

**Thank you very much for the reviews! **

An odd feeling was coming over Arthur. If asked he couldn't explain it but something was just…different. The world seemed to be changed before his eyes. To be honest, he didn't really feel in control of himself anymore – not just physically but mentally too.

Watching his knights span out in front of him, searching the village for these _Shadows_, he felt that the task they were performing wasn't important anymore. Did they really need to rid the kingdom of them? They weren't causing any harm, were they? He was tempted just to call the men back and return to the castle.

As he thought this, another idea overrode that one and enveloped his mind completely. It was the sudden desperate, unquenchable desire to take the dagger from his belt and plunge it straight into his own heart. Actually, it was more than a desire, it was a _need_. He had to complete the action that his brain commanded him to.

None of the knights had realised that their prince and leader had halted in his tracks; they were too busy focussed on the task at hand. So, in the middle of the crowded street of Camelot town, the future king drew the dagger from his belt. He was mesmerised for a second by the sharp blade that glinted in the sun – the sharper it was the quicker it would penetrate his skin. There was a soft, almost satisfied smile gracing his lips as, very slowly, he held the point on his chest.

After one deep breath, the young man moved his hand forward….only to find it knocked away from him at the last second. The dagger barely grazed his skin through his clothes. It was as if, at that moment, the spell had broken. His mind was free again.

He looked around him, confused; only just registering there was someone standing in front of him: someone with scruffy black hair, sky-blue eyes and a relieved expression on his face.

"Merlin?"

"I think we're even now. I mean, you saved me from drowning; I've just saved you from stabbing yourself. Though I suppose I have saved you a few more times than that…"

"Huh?" Arthur couldn't help but feel slightly dizzy with shock.

"Never mind." Merlin seemed to be rethinking his words.

"Why-why was I stabbing myself? What happened?"

"It was the Shadows. They manipulated your mind – just like they caused me to stay underwater for so long and almost drown."

"All right…" Arthur nodded slowly before grinning slyly, "Are you sure you just can't swim?"

"Yes, Arthur," the warlock sighed, "Anyway, I need to tell you what I meant to tell you before you almost committed suicide." The Prince's eyes widened suddenly.

"Don't tell my father I did that! He'd be furious."

"_Which was_…" Merlin shot his friend a withering look, "the fact that you and your knights have not got a chance against these Shadows. They will wipe you out before you even know what hit you. I mean, you just saw how easily they almost killed you with your own weapon."

"Thanks for your unwavering confidence in me, _Merlin_."

"I'm serious, Arthur, I'm not saying this. They are magical beings. You understand that right? Conjured from very Dark Magic and therefore they can only be destroyed using magic."

"Since when did you become such an expert on matters of sorcery?"

"I was told…by someone….it doesn't matter who because all you need to know is that I'm telling the truth and that we need to go to Ireland."

"_Ireland_?" The Prince's astonished voice carried along the street and over the hubbub. They received several curious expressions from passersby. He didn't care though; he was too busy reeling from his manservant's words.

"Ireland," Merlin repeated his eyes hard.

* * *

Arthur stood on the dockside, staring out at the expanse of dark water stretching out before him. He could see a few ships dotted around on the undulating waves in the distance. His stomach turned at the thought that he would soon be on one of those vessels. Ever since he was a little boy he hadn't liked being out at sea. He remembered the first time he'd been sailing on his father's orders and he'd spent the entire trip feeling terrible and hiding below deck. There was little doubt that this journey would be just as awful.

Beside him stood his manservant who was also surveying the scene in front of them. He was breathing in the salty sea air with pleasure and smiling happily to himself. Raven locks were ruffled by the wind that whistled past them and his clothes rippled in the breeze. Arthur had a slight feeling of déjà vu: both of them by the sea, together. At least there wasn't some strange unicorn guardian with them this time. Merlin turned suddenly, his grin widening when he saw Arthur's nervous expression.

"Not looking forward to the voyage?"

"Can you tell by my face?" Arthur retorted sarcastically.

"No, its some sixth sense," Merlin replied smoothly, his expression amused, "Come on then, you see that big boat down there with the three masts? That's our transport."

"Urgh, let's get this over with."

The Prince and his trusted servant had left Camelot yesterday and headed straight for the coast. Arthur had returned to his father after gathering his knights from their hunting and informed him that he had new information and must travel to Ireland in order to defeat the Shadows. Uther had been very reluctant to allow his only son to set out to the foreign land that was Ireland when there were so many unsavoury characters about who would just love to see Arthur dead. However he had been persuaded that it was for the good of the kingdom. Therefore, with a small posse of knights, Arthur had packed a bag and his horse before setting off on a journey that he would not doubt regret. He couldn't believe he was putting so much faith in his friend.

* * *

If anything, being on the massive wooden vessel was _worse_ than Arthur anticipated. He had dreaded the sickness but he did not realise that could be doubled, tripled even, by the appalling weather. Within a day of setting out on their trip, the sea had been whipped up into a ferocious storm as the heavens opened and rain lashed down on the already slick decks. Arthur had no sea legs whatsoever and had found himself sliding and falling all over the place as he tried to make his way into the hull of the ship.

What was even more aggravating than his nausea and lack of coordination was that somehow Merlin – the renowned klutz of the castle – had found his place in life. Whereas on land he was usually unbalanced at any given moment, here he was steady and immovable. It was as if the ship tipped the other way and levelled him out. Also, he didn't suffer from seasickness – that was infuriating.

So whilst Merlin pranced around on deck having a ball, Arthur was left feeling sorry for himself, curled up in his allocated bed with his insides churning. It really wasn't fair. Still, he consoled himself, there were only a few hours left before they docked.

* * *

The young warlock stood on the prow of the ship, holding onto the rigging and leaning forward as far as he could go. He was suspended above the black water that raged below him. The sight was fantastic. Despite his fascination with the swirling depths, Merlin couldn't help remember his last encounter with water and decided that maybe he should move back from the edge. He didn't want to tempt fate.

Instead he came upon the idea that he would try and talk to some of the other passengers on the ship or some of the crew that weren't too busy. Maybe he could quiz them about The Giant's Ring. He set off.

"So…you don't know?" Merlin interrupted the elderly man as he began rambling off onto a different subject altogether. He didn't want to be stuck there following a cold trail after all.

"Er…no, my boy, I don't, sorry I couldn't have been more of a help," he grinned at the dark haired man with a gummy smile.

"Thanks anyway."

Merlin moved on, in search of someone else that may be able to teach him about the meaning of The Giant's Ring. As he wandered down the length of the boat, braving the wind and the rain, he supposed that not many people – other than crew – would want to be out in a storm. He was alone in his enthusiasm for being out at sea; with nature.

Suddenly, however, he bumped straight into a large man who was standing at the edge of the boat, watching the sea. After a quick, earnest apology, the manservant decided this fellow would be as good as any to question.

"Um…my name's Merlin." He also leant on the gunwales of the vessel, trying to see companionable.

"Guy," came the gruff reply.

"Er…hello, Guy, I'm doing some….research on something in Ireland. It's called The Giant's Ring. Do you know anything of it?" For a moment he received no reply so he pondered moving on but then:

"The Giant's Ring…on Mount Killaraus?"

"Probably, to be honest, I was hoping you could tell me." As Merlin spoke the boat shook with alarming violence. He paused, glancing around him disconcertedly. Something was going to happen – something bad – he could feel it. When he had been talking about his sixth sense to Arthur he hadn't been entirely joking.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning shot through the air, a deadly spear sent by the gods. It struck the tallest mast of the ship and immediately set it alight. The fire travelled swiftly down the wooden pole, igniting everything in its path. By the time Merlin had registered what had happened the flames were already licking the planks that made up the decks. He contemplated using his magic but, in all honesty, he didn't know a spell that could extinguish such advanced fire. He didn't want to be discovered either.

Instead of doing anything to stop the blazing monster that was quickly enveloping the entire vessel, Merlin charged towards the steps that led to the lower deck. After one glance at the hungry flames he knew there was no chance of saving the ship. Therefore, he needed to find Arthur and make sure he was safe.

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	3. Sailing

**Sorry, this is ridiculously short! Thank you for the reviews!**

"Sire! Sire! Arthur! Arthur!" Merlin tumbled down the steps into the hull of the ship, shouting as loudly as he could for fear that his voice would be drowned out by the deafening yells and screams above. Pounding down a passage, the manservant had to dodge round several groups of panic-stricken people who were charging to the top deck. His eyes scanned the crowds but his friend was not among them. Arthur must still be in his cabin. He wasn't sure how he could sleep through this din but he supposed the Prince had very selective hearing.

Finding the door that led to Arthur's cabin, Merlin grabbed the handle but found that the door was locked. He didn't have the key either. The young man began hammering on the wood. He needed to rouse his master from his slumbers or he would most definitely die. When he received no reply still, despite his shouting and knocking, Merlin decided there was only thing for it. He paused for a moment and then with a flash of gold and a few muttered words, the door sprang open. Merlin ran through.

"Arthur!"

"Huh? Merlin, what are doing in my room?"

"W-what?!" Merlin shook his head incredulously at Arthur's obliviousness. "It hardly matters that I'm in your room, sire, the ship is on fire!"

"You're kidding!" The Prince sat up on his bed, his blankets slipping down off his chest and into his lap. His hair was a dishevelled mess as he stared at his manservant with raised eyebrows.

"Do I _look _like I'm kidding?" The raven haired boy asked, his voice rising in pitch, as he made a move towards the door.

"Merlin, is this some elaborate joke? Because I'm feeling like death right now so this is really not a good time." Arthur was half tempted to go back to asleep and ignore his annoying servant.

"Of course I'm serious, Arthur! Can you not here the screams? The ship was struck by lightening and the mast was set on fire. By now I reckon the entire upper deck will be in flames."

"God, Merlin, why the hell did you not get me sooner?!" Arthur leapt out of his bed with a sudden energy and grabbed a few items off the end of his bed: his shirt, his belt and scabbard, his jacket and his boots which lay discarded on the floor. He tugged those on as he was moving. "Let's go!"

The two boys sprinted from the room – Arthur in the lead, as usual, with Merlin hot on his heels – and made their way along the maze of corridors that made up the lower decks of the vessel. The Prince was just beginning to become frustrated by their lack of progress when he noticed the steps that led to the surface of the boat. As he made his way towards them, he was aware that the noise was getting louder, the air was getting thicker with smoke and an immense heat was beginning to reach him. Obviously they were reaching the heart of the fire.

With one quick look back, to check his manservant was following, the older man launched himself up the wooden staircase; taking the steps two at a time. Soon they emerged from the depths of hull and up into what should be the darkness of night.

The sky was not as black as it should be, however, for it was blocked by a haze of heat and flames that seemed to have eaten half the ship. The fire obscured the grey clouds that hung with a heavy ominous above them. Rain still pelted down onto the deck but the storm seemed to be having no effect on the flames – nothing could douse them.

Dozens of people – passengers and crew alike – were running about in a frenzy, unsure of what to do. They were darting away from the burning riggings but found they had nowhere else to go as the fire progressed further. Soon there would be nowhere left to hide. Some men seemed to have realised this and were already taking the plunge – dropping like stones into the raging sea below.

With a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, Merlin realised that was what they would have to do to. It was the only means of escape.

Arthur, on the other hand, who had at first frozen, overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the chaos had other ideas. He was busy hurrying over to a group of women who were huddling together as if that could somehow save them from the danger. Once he reached them he began talking with great urgency. From Merlin's distance he couldn't hear the words over the booming roll of thunder and screams of other passengers.

It seemed though, that the Prince had persuaded them to follow him to a small boat which everyone seemed to have neglected to notice up until this point. It was the boat that was usually used to take people ashore when the ship was anchored far out at sea. However, it was certainly serve its purpose as a lifeboat. Quickly, Arthur hurried them all into the small craft before yelling to Merlin for some help lowering it in the water. With the ten women already in the boat, there was no room for anyone else so it was best to get it out of sight as swiftly as possible. The manservant was only too willing to help.

Once the ladies were away, Merlin turned to his master with a questioning look on his face as if to say 'What now?' The Prince shrugged. There were no other lifeboats; all they could hope to do now was jump in the water and hope they weren't too far away from land to swim or float.

"We'll jump together, that way we won't lose each other," Arthur suggested finally, looking at the swirling waves that crashed menacingly against the failing ship.

"Agreed," Merlin nodded and the two of them grabbed hands – now was not the time to be childish about holding hands – and plummeted into the dark waters below…

* * *

The air was knocked out of Arthur's lungs as he hit the water – hard. He was submerged with frightening speed beneath the icy waves and had to battle against the current to bring himself back to the surface. As his head broke the surface he breathed in deeply, only to find himself swallowing a mouthful of salty water and coughing it back up. He couldn't really see anything, the world seemed to have just blurred into a cacophony of greys, blues and blacks. Nothing was a clear shape for him to focus on. The ship had vanished completely.

After another unsavoury gulp of the sea, he tried to swim, maybe in that way he could feel like he was actually doing something rather than just treading water aimlessly. His ears still rang with the not long forgotten screams but the actual noises seemed to have faded away. Arthur guessed the tide must be very strong and that he was being swept very far away from the boat. He just hoped it was in the right direction.

It was at this moment, whilst he was contemplating his fate that he remembered that he hadn't been the only one to plunge into the stormy sea, Merlin had been with him. They had been holding hands. How could he have lost him?!

The young prince thrashed in a wild circle, scanning the sea around him. It was a complete empty expanse of space, there wasn't a landmark in sight.

"Merlin?" Arthur yelled into the unnerving quiet. "Merlin! Merlin! Merlin!" He received no reply despite calling for several minutes. Feeling his heart sinking with dismay, the man stopped shouting and decided to conserve the last of his energy on trying to stay afloat. Maybe he would reach land soon.


	4. Shore

**Thanks for the reviews! It will get better, I promise! Off to revise now!**

When Arthur woke he was lying flat on his back. There was something solid beneath his body so obviously he'd reached dry land – he was no longer floating aimlessly through the sea. He could feel the sun beating mercilessly down on his upturned face and he opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the ferocious glare. With a groan, the prince lifted a hand up to shield himself from the intense light. He was tempted to sit up but he really couldn't be bothered – his body ached too much.

By now, the man had worked out though, even in his prone position that he was lying on a beach. The small waves of water that occasionally tickled his toes were quite a big indicator. His toes?! What had happened to his boots? Now the prince did jerk bolt upright, staring down at his bare feet with surprise. Somehow he had managed to lose his footwear in the depths of the Irish Sea. Fantastic. Drawing away from the water's edge, Arthur glared out at the sparkling blue expanse, cursing it fluidly under his breath. Still, nothing could be done. There was no point getting angry at nature.

Climbing gingerly to his feet, the young man had a moment of dizziness before he regained his balance. The sand beneath his feet was warmed by the sun and trickled over his skin pleasantly. He looked around him curiously. Arthur seemed to have washed up on a deserted shore – he wasn't sure it was Ireland but that seemed the most likely suspect – and the ship and his things were nowhere in sight. Damn. However, he couldn't help but feel the absence of something much bigger and more important but for the life of him he couldn't recall.

"Wait…" Arthur spoke to himself and found his voice coming out as a croak. He was missing something. "Merlin!" He had managed to lose his manservant in the once raging waters of the sea. The boy claimed he could swim but was that really true? Arthur remembered with horrible clarity his friend almost drowning in the lake. These waters were much more treacherous. Even if Merlin could swim he could have hit his head and been knocked unconscious or he could have been dragged under by fierce currents or eaten by sharks or…he could be being attacked by a bunch of bandits on the beach just a few hundred metres down from where Arthur stood now.

The small group had appeared from the line of trees that stood at the edge of the shore and Arthur would recognise that scruffy, lanky figure anywhere. He could even make out Merlin's familiar voice from his distance. There were five other men attacking Merlin by the looks of things. They were pushing and shoving him until the boy lost his balance and landed bottom first on the sand. Soon they were bearing down on him.

Arthur realised now was probably a good time to step in. He looked down at his waist and saw with great irritation that his boots had not been the only possessions to go missing. His sword had vanished out of his scabbard. The prince supposed he would just have to win this fight with brute strength alone and began to run swiftly down the coastline.

As he drew closer, he quickly assessed how he could dispatch each of them men before they had time to react and injure him too badly. All of them looked pretty hefty and they could probably pack quite a punch. Therefore he would have to be _very _fast. They still hadn't noticed him, too engrossed in beating the living daylights out of Merlin, to look behind them. Arthur acted before they did.

He snapped the neck of one man and cracked another over the head with a rock that he'd picked up off the floor. After that another received the same fate and there were only two left by the time they'd reacted. These two were staring at him with shocked and angry faces. They could not believe over half their mates had been taken out by this one man.

"Who are you?!" One man yelled, backing away hastily. "What do you want?"

"Unfortunately, you seem to have made your victim my manservant so I've come to correct matters." As Arthur said this he smacked the fellow who had been speaking with his trusty rock. He slumped to the ground – his blood mingling with the gritty sand.

The last man standing looked less fearful then his companion had been. He had a certain defiance and arrogance about him - as if he still could not understand how this stranger had killed or injured his associates - and he believed that he would not fall as well.

"Who are you then?" He asked gruffly, dark eyebrows knitting into a frown.

"My name is Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot."

"_Camelot_?!" The man suddenly seemed to be overcome with absolute rage. "We hate you scum! I'll kill you! I will!" With that, the bandit leapt at Arthur who sidestepped and promptly whacked him. The man dropped like the stone that had hit him.

Arthur was admittedly astonished by his reaction to his title but there was no time to worry about that. He needed to check on Merlin. Hurrying over to the boy who lay, sprawled on the ground, he skidded to his knees and shook him.

"Merlin? Are you okay, Merlin? Wake up!"

"Damn, I can't even be unconscious without you ordering me to do things," the manservant's eyes flickered open and he offered his master an amused grin. Arthur let out a sigh of relief.

"I just wanted you to wake up. Maybe I won't bother saving your life next time."

"You know, I'm not sure I wanted a prat saving my life," Merlin retorted, sitting up and wincing slightly. Arthur glared at him for a second before realising that his friend was only joking. He smiled, relaxing once more.

"I'm glad to see you're still alive."

"Me too," the warlock agreed.

"Though I think only you could survive a burning ship, jumping into a stormy sea and then almost be beaten to death by bandits," Arthur laughed.

"Yeah, only me," Merlin sighed. Why did he always have a knack for running into trouble?

"Anyway, how badly hurt are you?" The Prince asked, he hadn't missed his friend's subtle winces and the crease of pain between his eyebrows.

"I'm not sure. Maybe a few cracked ribs and some bruises but I think I'll be all right."

"We'll have to strap those ribs up then."

"With what, Arthur? We've lost all our stuff."

Merlin was right. At this moment in time they had nothing between them. Arthur didn't even have shoes. They'd lost their clothes, their provisions, their weapons and money. Everything looked a bit bleak. They still had to find this Giant's Ring but how could they do that with nothing? Those Shadows would be wreaking havoc back in Camelot and Arthur was failing on his mission. Overcome with shame, the prince slumped on the sand beside his manservant.

"I think it was those Shadows that caused the boat to sink. I mean, what is the likelihood of a bolt of lightning to strike our mast and then that to set alight the entire ship? It's too absurd. And the actual storm came out of nowhere! It has to be the Shadows. They've got it in for us and are following our every move ready to kill us," Merlin stated, his expression hard.

"At least they aren't in Camelot then," Arthur mumbled, disheartened.

"Hopefully," Merlin agreed with his prince on the surface but in his heart he knew that there were enough demons to track him and Arthur and for some to remain murdering peasants. He'd never say that out loud though. "We have to be extra careful."

"I think we don't only have to be careful of magical sadistic creatures but also the locals."

"What do you mean?"

"I told one of those bandits that I was from Camelot and he looked like he wanted to rip my throat out. He called me scum and said they hate us."

"Oh…" Merlin looked perplexed, "That's not good."

"Obviously."

"Maybe we shouldn't go flaunting your title everywhere then. You can be plain old Arthur." The boy offered his friend a cheeky grin.

"I'm never plain!"

"You can just be old then."

"Hush up! I'm fed up of your yapping. I think its time to strap you up."

"Huh?" Merlin looked mildly worried.

Arthur wasn't listening anymore though. He had shrugged off his brown jacket and was in the process of pulling off his shirt. Jerking the white material over his head, he then proceeded to rip it up with surprising gusto.

"What are you doing?!"

"Wait…."

The Prince then gestured for his servant to pull his own top off. The boy complied, finally realising where his master was going with this. Arthur was hard pushed not to gasp when he saw the state of Merlin's chest. It was a collage of bruises; all littering his pale torso like vivid blotches of paint. Instead, the man reined in his shock and began wrapping his torn shirt tightly around the other man's body. Merlin hissed in pain.

"There we go, all done," Arthur stated proudly, standing back and inspecting his handiwork.

"Thanks," Merlin wheezed, "Though maybe you could have left some space to breathe."


	5. Sleep

**Thanks for the reviews! I have finally reached the chapter that inspired the whole story...and it probably isn't even worth it. I don't care though, I've enjoyed writing around it anyway. **

The village was dimly lit in the darkness. A beacon of hope for the two weary travellers. It was nestled in the valley of mountains – looking toy-like in comparison. Smoke was issuing from several chimneys, swirling up and off into the night air.

Having just emerged from the line of trees, a forest they had battled through since leaving the beach, prince and manservant stared longingly at the warmth of civilisation. Their clothes had long since dried off from being in the sea but despite that chills still wracked their bodies. It would be nice to sit by the heat of a fire.

Arthur especially was looking forward to collapsing. His feet were cut and bleeding from wearing no shoes all day and he wanted to bathe them in hot water to remove the sting. The two of them stumbled doggedly down the dirt track that led into the settlement. Merlin spotted an inn called 'The Clover' and they both stepped over the threshold with the remainder of their energy. They had not a penny between them so maybe they could scrounge a room and some food in return for work.

The inside of the building was bubbling with noise, where the outside village had been deathly silent; here there was the hubbub of loud voices, laughter, music and singing. Men were sitting around tables and slumped across chairs, drugged by alcohol and therefore having a jolly good time of things. Several were playing dice and a few others seemed to be deeply involved in a drinking game which seemed to revolve around each person attempting to down a whole boot full of ale. Each time a man failed the rest would guffaw and name him a girl for his efforts.

It was a heavy, oppressive atmosphere; rich with the stench of sweat, alcohol and hot food that seemed to be being sold over the bar. The air was thick with smoke from several men's pipes. Arthur coughed and spluttered as he entered, not used to such a dense and suffocating environment. His manservant had less of a problem, they had plenty of similar places surrounding his village, Ealdor, and he had been a few times with Will.

As he passed the crowds of drunk and disorderly fellows, Merlin couldn't help but catch snippets of conversation and what he heard turned his stomach violently. His ears pricked, hoping he hadn't heard correctly.

"Them stupid English, they came on this ship, the scum. Dirtying Irish soil, how dare they! Gillomanius always said they were dogs but I had no idea I'd ever had the misfortune to meet one. This fella said his ship sank and he swam to safety. Course I turned him in immediately, ol' Gilly would've had my head if I didn't."

"Yeah," the friend of the man who'd spoken nodded in agreement, slamming a bottle on the table to emphasise his point, "Them English are no good."

"Apparently though, on the ship that sank was this man who's pretty special in England, some Prince or other. I can't remember his name…" the man was slurring now, his reddish eyebrows knotting with concentration, "…Oh, wait, maybe it was Angus….Andrew…Arthur! Yes that's it. Gillomanius has already put a price on his head. Said he'd give anything for the capture of his enemy's only heir."

King Gillomanius, Merlin guessed, was who they were talking about. He ruled over Ireland with an iron-fist, not dissimilar to Uther's own. However, the manservant had no idea that the Irish King harboured such feelings of hatred as to call the King of Camelot an enemy. Yes, their relationship had been rocky and unpredictable but Uther wouldn't have allowed his only son on foreign turf if thought he'd be in danger. Maybe it was something to do with the Shadows, they'd ruined the majority of the journey so far, maybe they had planted ill thoughts in Gillomanius' head. That would just be bad luck.

Suddenly, Merlin realised that Arthur had passed him and was about to talk to the man standing behind the bar. The bartender looked grizzly and unfriendly and the manservant really did not want to find out what he would do when he found first that they had no money and secondly that they were English. At the very least the two of them would be beaten if not killed.

"Arthur!" Merlin hissed and grabbed his elbow, dragging him back. The Prince looked severely annoyed.

"_What _are you playing at, Merlin?!" he growled, "I'm tired and I want a bed and a decent meal."

"Don't talk!"

"What?"

"SHUT UP!" The raven haired boy snapped, this time raising his voice before turning to the inn keeper with a casual smile on his face, "Servants, eh? What do you do with them?" Arthur looked flabbergasted at his friend's sheer audacity. It was because of his outrage that he only just realised that Merlin's voice had changed.

"Do you want a drink or what?"

"Actually, I'm sorry for raising your hopes but I think we should be leaving. I must get home to the wife. You know how it is." Merlin grinned in an amicable fashion but received none in return.

"Hmph," was all the bartender could manage.

"Nice meeting you. Oíche mhaith." Merlin nodded and then yanked his master from the tavern with great force.

* * *

As they stumbled back out into the street, Arthur rounded on his manservant, with an irritated and somewhat confused expression on his face.

"_What_ was that about? Why were you speaking with that odd voice and what did you say at the end?"

"I was speaking with an Irish accent," Merlin rolled his eyes as if that much was obvious, "And at the end I said Good Night."

"But why? And since when have you been able to talk Irish?" The Prince of Camelot demanded.

"You don't 'talk Irish', Arthur. I was using their accent rather than an English one because if you hadn't noticed these locals seem to nurse quite a violent hatred towards the English, especially Uther," Merlin explained, as always exasperated by his master's lack of observance and initiative.

"It sounded like you were swallowing a fish and speaking at the same time," Arthur stated.

"I don't think you should insult the Irish," Merlin shrugged, "I personally quite like the accent. Oh, and to answer your previous question, if you ever bothered learning anything about me you would know that I am quite adept at picking up languages and accents. I can do Scottish and Irish accents and I can speak French, Latin, Welsh and Celtic."

"Seriously?" Arthur gaped, in awe of this new knowledge. He was crown prince and had a brilliant education but even he did not have that skill.

"I just have a gift for languages," the modest manservant replied, "Traders often passed through our village and my father- I used to travel places." The boy changed sentence half way through which did not escape the notice of the prince. He did not persist however.

"But what I want to know is why you called me your servant? I am a Prince, I am nobody's servant!"

"You can't speak Irish dialect therefore here you are rendered useless, if you spoke we would be found out. Servants don't need to speak so it makes sense for you to be mine as I can do the accent."

"I could have just been a mute friend," Arthur said, indignantly.

"Yeah, well that wouldn't have been half as much fun," Merlin smirked cheekily receiving a cuff around the head for his boldness.

"But now you've got us thrown out of the only inn in the entire village, what do we do?"

"Er…sleep under the trees?"

"No."

"Well, we could try and find a barn or a stable something and camp out there."

"All right."

"And in the meantime, I will try and get some food."

"What? How?" Arthur shouted after his friend who waved him off as he ran off. Left to grumble to himself, the prince set about finding somewhere suitable to sleep for the night.

* * *

The stable that Arthur had wanted to discover did not exist. All of the people in this village seemed to keep their outhouses firmly locked up and the young man found himself going in circles and not finding anywhere. He was cold and he was still tired and his feet _still _hurt but yet there was nowhere to rest. It was as he reached the outskirts of the settlement, however, that he came across a ramshackle old cow shed.

He peered through a crack in the wood – of which there were many – and discovered that although the cows were all in there, settled down for the night, there was still space for a couple of bodies to squash in. It would be warm with all the animal heat and it smelt musky and sort of homely. The Prince decided it may not be a palace guest room but it was good enough to serve its purpose. Plus, the door was unlocked. Slipping quietly in, Arthur settled down beside one of the cows who eyed him suspiciously at first but, when it saw he was no threat, ignored him. Leaning his back against the wood of the shelter and not bothering to do anything else, Arthur found himself falling into a relatively comfortable slumber.

* * *

When Merlin discovered the cow shed about an hour later, he crept in – a few stolen loaves of bread in hand - and came across his master sleeping peacefully in one corner. His eyes were closed and his hair was falling across his face as his chest rose and fell rhythmically. It wasn't often that Merlin got to see Arthur so relaxed and unrestrained…and so quiet; so he savoured the moment and slithered down beside his friend before also drifting off.

**Aw, cute moment. And now you can see what my idea was. Bringing Merlin back to Ireland and giving him an excuse to have an Irish accent. Though I suppose you can only imagine it as a reader. Just think of Colin Morgan's normal voice! Please review! **


	6. Stranger

**Thank you for the reviews and I'm glad you liked Merlin's accent. Lets just say that whenever Merlin speaks now he will do so in an Irish accent unless I say otherwise. :D REVIEW!**

Merlin was aware of someone watching him. He was yet to open his eyes but he could just tell. Their presence emanated a heat which his nerves immediately sensed. Something else told him it was not Arthur either. Therefore, he deduced, a stranger was watching him sleep. With no warning, the warlock snapped his blue eyes open and he instantly picked out the intruder in the cow shed. They seemed startled by his sudden awareness and they stumbled back just as Merlin sprang to his feet.

A pair of frightened brown eyes stared at him across the space; eyes which belonged to a small girl. She could only be six or seven. In her hand she held a stick that was used to move the cows in the right direction – shepherding them.

Slowly, Merlin took a step towards her, unsure of what the reaction would be. Obviously she was used to the large animals and probably worked with them everyday; this was her turf and _he _was the intruder, not the other way round. Therefore she had a right to be scared.

"Hey, um…" the warlock began, not sure of how to explain himself. Maybe, he reminded himself, he should make sure he maintained his Irish accent. With a cough, he continued, "I'm sorry, this is probably your cow shed but me and my friend needed somewhere to stay….we didn't touch anything or hurt the cows…" Merlin tailed off looking apologetic.

The girl was silent. Her pink lips pursed in a pale oval face. Dark eyes seemed to judge how much danger the strange man posed, darting from him to the sleeping Arthur on the floor. Merlin wasn't sure how the prince could still be sleeping through this but he was managing somehow. Eventually, she came to a decision as she tucked a blonde lock of hair behind her ear and spoke.

"You intruder," she said softly, her voice like a whisper on the wind.

"Er…yeah, like I said, I'm sorry about that."

"S'right, I no mind." Merlin frowned at her stunted language. She may be young but he would've thought she had the ability to speak in full sentences. It was difficult to understand her, though, despite the simplicity of her speech because her accent was so thick.

"Well, my name's Merlin," Merlin stated, trying to make conversation and make the situation less awkward. When she didn't reply to his words he attempted to encourage her. "What's your name?"

"Rain," the girl said abstractly. Merlin, assuming that she had not understood the question, tried again, this time pronouncing each syllable carefully and loudly. He was met with a perplexed expression and the word, "Rain," again. Finally deciding that the child must be simple or mentally afflicted, Merlin gave up.

It was at that very moment that Arthur awakened. His eyelids fluttered open and he frowned in confusion when he caught sight of the young child. Swiftly, he climbed to his feet and shot Merlin a questioning look. The warlock shrugged in the return.

"You want food?" The girl piped in her wispy voice.

"Er…yeah," the pair nodded cautiously, wondering where the child would suddenly produce the food from. The loaves of bread were not going to last long so they should take all the free meals they could get.

"Come," she beckoned them out of the cow shed, hitting the brown beasts as she went. They mooed irritably, obviously not wanting to leave the warmth of the shelter, but complied when the cow-stick whipped their rumps. Arthur and Merlin gathered up their measly pile of belongings and followed her. She skipped happily out into the field and began making her way through the long grass as the cows went off to graze. The Prince raised an eyebrow as Merlin made to pursue her.

"Merlin," he whispered, "How do we even know she's safe?"

"What do you mean? She's a small child," Merlin returned, his brow knitting in disbelief.

"Yeah, but you told me to be careful. You never know how these Shadows can strike. What if it's a trick? What if she's been sent to lure us to our deaths?"

"I don't think…" the warlock began.

"I mean, has she even told you her name?"

"No, I asked her but…"

"But what?"

"She just said something about the weather…" Merlin waved the query off, "It doesn't matter though, Arthur, can't you see she's simple? What harm can she do?"

"I don't know, Merlin." Arthur shook his head doubtfully.

"Come on." Merlin grabbed his master's arm and tugged him after the girl who by now had reached a low stone wall that was partially falling down. She clambered daintily onto it and stood on the top. Then she waved a slender arm at them. The raven haired boy set off. Arthur had no choice but to follow.

* * *

They were led away from the village, which was a relief in Merlin's eyes; however, he was less pleased when they began trekking up the mountainside. The ground was steep and coarse – littered with jagged rocks that scattered when you stood on them and rough bracken and heather. The warlock found himself stumbling several times and grabbing onto Arthur for support – that didn't please the prince.

The child seemed completely at ease with the terrain, suggesting she'd been this way plenty of times before. She skirted round tricky outcrops and crevices that neither boy would have noticed had she not obviously avoided them. Her white-blonde head bobbed against the brown of the mountain and was what Arthur used to track her.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of hiking, they came across a cave, set into the rock below a ridge. It was like an empty mouth in the hillside. Arthur frowned apprehensively. He still didn't trust the girl. She hurried delicately to the entrance and called for them.

"Come in! Is safe." Then she vanished into the hollow. The, now quite anxious, pair entered also. Blinking quickly to try and get used to the dimness of the cave, they looked around.

The cave was reasonably deep and the height was a couple of heads above Merlin's own. He couldn't make out where the walls ended or began because of the lack of light therefore the space probably seemed bigger than it was. A chair stood in the middle of the room. It was made of beech wood and had a broken leg. Strange.

Arthur seemed to have overcome his initial uneasiness and was beginning to explore. He wandered curiously towards the back of the cave but just as he was disappearing from Merlin's view he let out a muffled yell of surprise. Not a scream. Arthur would never scream.

A monster flew from the blackness. It eyes huge and wild and red. Letting out a blood chilling screech it shook its head and lunged at the Prince of Camelot. Then it swiftly retreated, shaking its head so that the mane of green hair around it trembled and quivered. Arthur went to draw his sword but then remembered it wasn't there. What did he do now?! Merlin contemplated using his magic but before he could think of any spells the monster ripped off its head.

That was when both young men realised that it was not actually a monster but an elderly man in a mask. He had a set of deep wrinkles lining his face and a large smile that showed rows of uneven teeth. White fuzzy hair rested on top of his head like a strange fluffy halo.

"You must be Arthur and Merlin," he said, amicably.


	7. Story

The two young men fell into a stunned silence. Still smiling, the elderly man wandered to the edge of the cave and placed his mask down on the floor, propped up against the rock wall. Now they could see it better, Arthur and Merlin realised the monster head was merely made of a piece of painted wood with jagged holes cut into it for the eyes and mouth. The wild green hair was just dried grass. How could they have been so terrified of it?

Slowly, the man walked back to them and put a hand out towards the small girl who hurried over to him. She grabbed his knobbly hand – calloused and riddled with bluish purple veins – before standing beside him. Now she too was watching their visitors with interest.

Arthur was the first to find his voice. Obviously he had forgotten about Merlin's warning not to talk because of his English accent which could prove fatal.

"How do you know our names?" He asked, tensing his shoulders threateningly. "Who are you?"

"You're visit has long been foretold," the man waved him off with his bony hand.

"What do you mean?" Arthur said apprehensively.

"It is prophesised," the old fellow grinned and began to recite, his voice taking on an ethereal tone:

"_When darkness and shadows descend upon the earth, enemies must unite to defeat the evil which threatens to consume the land; bringing death and terror. Seeking the assistance of a ring of giants is the only way the nightmare can be quashed. Magic and metal must join with rain and stone to destroy the common foe before everything is lost._"

Arthur looked nonplussed.

"And what did you say your name was?" Merlin queried. The prophecy had made little sense to him either. Nevertheless, he did recognise parts of it as important such as 'a ring of giants' and 'magic'. Did the magic mean him?

"My name, young man, is Conrí." The elderly man nodded more to himself than anyone else. "Which means king of the wolves if you're interested."

"Er….all right," Arthur looked uninterested, "I'm an actual _prin-_" He was stopped by a grubby hand being thrust across his mouth and he glared daggers at Merlin who was the owner of the limb. Once he'd struggled his way out of his manservant's grip, he turned to the raven haired boy. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You've already spoken, do you really want to make it worse by claiming to be a _prince_?!" The warlock's muttered tone was incredulous.

"Everything is fine, young Merlin; I know who you are and where you are from. You can drop the accent if you want," Conrí chuckled, "I know Arthur is Prince to the kingdom of Camelot and is destined to become one of the finest king's in history."

"Well, thanks…" Arthur looked perturbed but the man still continued, turning to Merlin.

"And you, Myriddin Emrys Merlinnus, are destined to be _the _greatest war-"

"Wart," Merlin interrupted, that was the only plausible that came to mind and it wasn't very plausible at that, "The greatest wart on Arthur's kingly face." He laughed, it was forced but Arthur barely seemed to notice. Conrí stared at him oddly – bushy white eyebrows raised.

"But who is she?" Arthur was gesturing to the girl still clinging to the old man's hand. She gazed up at him with deep brown eyes, so dark they were verging on black. He found himself flinching under their intensity.

"Why, hasn't she told you? Her name is Rain." Merlin flushed. He realised his mistake from earlier, the little girl had understood his question, and he had just dismissed her answer because it was unusual.

"Rain," Arthur repeated, shooting a look at his friend and mouthing 'the weather!' with an incredulous expression. The boy shrugged. "That's a nice name." The blond man offered the child a friendly smile. Her own expression did not alter.

"So, would you like some breakfast?" Conrí asked, pottering around the cave.

"And a proper explanation would be nice…" Merlin added.

* * *

Breakfast turned out to be stone baked bread and some boiled burdock stems that Conrí told picked that morning. This was coupled with some bone cups of tea that really served to warm up the cold weather. It was all very rustic and simple – a far cry from the extravagant meals Arthur usually had at the castle. They all ate round a small wooden table, Conrí using the broken wooden chair they'd seen earlier whilst the others used the floor and blankets to soften the stone.

Conversation was stunted to begin with; the old man didn't seem to want to share his story just yet. Obviously he just revelled in keeping them in suspense. Arthur and Merlin kept throwing glances at one another, really unsure of what was going on and whether these people were on their side or not. It seemed so but one could never be sure. That was until Conrí began to tell his tale.

"I have lived in this cave for the last twenty years of my life; ever since I was driven from my old village for being too learned and too abnormal. The people never liked me; they did their best to avoid me at all times. Therefore I believed it better for me to become a hermit and live alone. When I was wandering over these mountains I came across this cave and decided this is where I would reside for the rest of my days – reading, studying and living off nature. Over the years I have accumulated hundreds over books and scriptures.

One day, in the dead of winter, when the land was enveloped with cold and every tree, rock and plant blanketed with snow – so much so that if you ventured outside you would be frozen and lost in a white wilderness for days – Rain arrived. A little baby, left on the hillside to die. When I found her I was searching for some kind of food, having not saved enough for the long season, and I saw some crows pecking around so I assumed they'd found some carcass or other. In actual fact it was an infant, naked and bawling in the snow. I took her home and warmed her up; fed her and clothed her until she was safe and healthy. She has been with me ever since. I raised her in my own way, teaching her about her environment, nature and the magic of books. If I died she could easily survive alone.

However, as time passed, I realised that Rain was deaf, she struggled terribly with speech. That is why she talks how she does – don't think her simple – the girl has one of the most intelligent brains you are ever likely to come across. So in order to overcome that barrier we developed a language using our hands and signals. I taught her that language and I taught her to write. Obviously she has a limited vocabulary but that is after years of practice – it is a phenomenal achievement." The man seemed to have finished his story and his two guests stared at him, slightly at a loss. They failed to see the relevance of this account to them. Arthur voiced his opinions.

"Ah, you see, young prince, that it is important to know our backgrounds and trust us for you will see that we will both prove instrumental in your quest."

"I still don't understand, how you know who we are and what our quest is?!"

"Prophecies, my dear boy, prophecies which I have studied and decoded for years have allowed me entrance into your lives. I probably know more about your futures than you do." Conrí laughed. Merlin and Arthur failed to see the funny side of things. It was not a nice thought that someone knew about what was going to happen in your life before you. Merlin decided to change the subject.

"And will you please tell us why the Irish are so against the English, why do they loathe Camelot so?"

"You are to steal their precious stones. Why shouldn't they hate you?"

"What?!" Both the prince and the manservant exclaimed in unison.


	8. Stones

"You mean to tell me you're not here for the stones?" Conrí raised his eyebrows in surprise. Obviously this was something he had not predicted.

"No," Arthur said, "We came here because these demons were ravaging our people and our kingdom and Merlin heard from someone that Ireland was the place we should go to save them. Something about the Giant's Ring….right, Merlin?" The prince turned to his friend looking for back up to his words.

"Yes, we were heading for the Giant's Ring on Mount Killaraus." The warlock added the last bit of information that he'd learnt on the ship.

Conrí glanced from one young man to the other, still looking astonished at their lack of knowledge.

"And so, on this sparse information you set sail for this country?" The elderly man looked incredulous. "You are either very bold or very foolish."  
"Or both," Merlin murmured.

"But I am glad that you were because otherwise the prophecy could never have been fulfilled."

"Well, are you actually going to tell us the relevance of the stones or not? What is the Giant's Ring exactly? Is it made of gold? Is it jewellery? Will we have to fight a….giant to get it?"

"My dear, stupid boy, the Giant's Ring is not literally the ring of a giant! That is absurd. Giants do not exist." Conrí stated this fact as if it was the most obvious thing ever and everyone should know it. Arthur just looked offended by being called stupid. "The Giant's Ring is a circle of standing stones on Mount Killaraus. They were moved there in ancient times though no one knows quite how for they are huge. It is rumoured that giants placed them there, hence the name. They are sacred to the Irish."

"Oh," Merlin said quietly. That was not what he had been expecting. What on earth was he meant to do with some enormous stones? How could they defeat the Shadows?

"And fortunately for you two, considering you had no idea where you were headed; you have ended up in the right place. Mount Killaraus is maybe a day's walk from here. I will send Rain with you to show you the way. I cannot accompany you for I am too old and weak. I wish you luck though."

"I am not sure a little girl will be all too helpful on our journey. It wouldn't be safe," Arthur stated, glancing doubtfully at Rain who stared at him right back – her eyes piercing.

"There is more to Rain that meets the eye, young prince. Besides, she can look after herself, I assure you."

Conrí smiled proudly at the child who offered a very small smile in return. She then skipped over to the entrance of the cave and vanished outside for a few moments. Then she returned and made a few hand signals. Arthur and Merlin had no idea what the signs meant and they looked to Conrí for a translation.

"Rain says that, judging by her senses, now would be a good time to leave for the mountain because the weather will turn in a couple of days and you do not want to be high up when there's a storm."

"Another storm?" Arthur groaned, miserably.

"As I said before, if you leave now you will miss it," Conrí repeated, "I will give you some supplies and then you can be on your way."

Arthur was rising to his feet, following the old man's words. He certainly didn't want to be stuck in another storm like the last one, even if it was on dry land. However, his manservant remained still seated, his forehead creased into a confused frown. The Prince sighed, realising Merlin was about to make some comment or other. And the raven haired boy did not disappoint.

"But I don't understand. What are we actually meant to do once we get to the stones? What is their relevance? How are we meant to destroy the Shadows?"

"Ah, so many questions, dear boy, and unfortunately I cannot answer any one of them. That is for you to discover when you get there. You're intelligent, I'm sure you can figure it out." Conrí smiled at him.

"Oh lord, you're just like that damn dragon," Merlin muttered darkly.

"Sorry, what was that?" the old man asked, a gleam in his blue eyes.

"Nothing," the warlock replied, climbing swiftly to his feet, resigned to the fact the would have to work things out alone. Well, not alone exactly, he had Arthur and Rain, though he wondered what help they could be.

After collecting a few food packs and sleeping rolls together (just in case), the trio left the cave. Rain was solemn as she bid goodbye to her guardian. There was no evidence of a child being taken from her home by complete strangers – most little girls would have at least shed a tear but Rain merely nodded to Conrí and then walked from the cavern. Arthur and Merlin followed.

* * *

The going was definitely steep. Merlin could feel the muscles in his legs protesting against the continuous exercise. He had to ignore the burning pain however and focus on the task at hand: which was making it to the top of the mountain. Well, it wasn't exactly a mountain, more of a large hill, but it was still hard-going. Beside him, Arthur had his head bent and his jaw was set, Merlin could tell that his friend was determined not to let the strenuous climb defeat him. Nothing had defeated Arthur in a long time.

Frustratingly, Rain was unaffected by the slope. If you looked at her you wouldn't even be able to tell she was going uphill. Her pace never faltered and she never ran out of breath. It was amazing and yet unnerving at the same time. Conrí had been correct when he said the girl could look after herself and would not slow them down. They were the ones slowing _her_ down.

Occasionally, Merlin would attempt a conversation with her, seeing that Arthur was in no mood to talk. It was difficult though, considering she was deaf and had very little speech on her side. She could lip read, yes, but that didn't really feel like a proper conversation. Eventually, the warlock just gave up and contented himself with trudging in silence. He should prent conserve his energy and his breath anyway, for the trek.

Glancing up at the sky, Merlin felt his stomach churn uncomfortably as he spotted that the clouds were rolling in – dark and ominous. They weren't making progress quickly enough and the weather was catching up with them; that or the Shadows were still following them and were speeding up the storm deliberately. Merlin hated to entertain _that _thought.

"Nearly there," Rain suddenly murmured, her blonde wispy hair, flowing in the breeze. Merlin thanked the lords and hoped she was right. He couldn't go much farther.

* * *

The sky was black by the time they reached the summit. A massive expanse of rain clouds which seemed to coat the landscape in a threatening gloom. Both Merlin and Arthur wanted to collapse when they set foot on the plateau at the top of the mountain. Strangely, grass carpeted the flat terrain, not something you would have expected from a mountain peak. Through the grass, a stone-laid path followed a twisted course to a towering stone archway. To begin with it looked as though this arch stood alone on the ground but then Merlin noticed the stones standing vertically behind it.

Striding forward quickly, energy renewed via curiosity, the young warlock passed through the archway and found himself within a circle of stones – a Ring of Giants. He stared around him, in awe of their size and beauty. Aware that he had been joined by Arthur and Rain, Merlin wandered over to one of the enormous pillars and ran his long fingers down the rough stone. When his skin touched the hard, cool surface he felt a bizarre tingle travel through his fingertips, through his hand and up his arm. A shiver passed through his entire body. There was something undoubtedly magical about these stones.

Suddenly lightening forked across the sky and shadows descended upon the mountain.


	9. Spells

**Author's Note - Oh man, this was so surreal to write because in the background I was watching Richard Wilson on The One Show so I felt like I had Gaius in the room with me. Thanks for the reviews. **

Merlin instinctively ducked as they drew closer, descending from the heavens like some black wave of terror. He heard Arthur let out a gasp of shock from his right and the warlock flicked a glance in his direction. The Prince was looking to his empty belt and then up at the Shadows with apprehension – blonde hair whipped by the ferocious wind. Merlin searched around him for Rain but he didn't see her anywhere; she had vanished.

Casting in his mind for an appropriate spell, Merlin forgot all ideas of keeping his identity secret. These Shadows would stop at nothing and he may as well get killed trying to fight them than by standing still. However, the Dragon's severe words still rang in his ears, "It will have a part to play in the fight but it cannot do it single handed." His magic could not alone defeat the Shadows. He could try though.

The storm was taking full force now: thunder rumbling like some angry, awakened giant, lightening streaking across the dark sky, clouds swirling and warping into strange, menacing shapes. And in amongst this all the Shadows still came. Demons in the night.

Their shapes were vaguely humanoid but Merlin was certain they were not _living _things. They were creatures from hell that had no physical presence but could still kill a man as easily as clicking their fingers. Counting, the warlock reckoned there were about thirty in total. Ten times their own number. Not that numbers made any difference in such an already unfair battle.

Instead of attempting to figure out a spell that could blast the evil creatures from the sky, Merlin tried to think of some other way he could distract them or slow them down in time for him to escape this place and find out how he could vanquish them once and for all. His mind went round in circles for what seemed like hours but must have been a few seconds. After all, he didn't have a lot of time to waste planning.

And then he had it! The Shadows didn't hurt you themselves; they messed with your mind and caused you to commit suicide yourself. Therefore, if the warlock could somehow cut off their entrance into his brain and that of his companions then they would be useless. For now, anyway. Until the worked out a stronger way to penetrate mental defences.

Swiftly, Merlin set up a blockade in his mind. He used his magic to imagine a fence surrounding all his thoughts and then he closed the gate. The Shadows wouldn't be getting in there. Now to help his friends.

Glancing over to Arthur, Merlin's heat leapt as he saw the glazed expression which had overcome the young Prince. He needed to act quickly before the Shadows' control caused Arthur irreversible harm. Focussing his energy, the raven-haired boy reached out mentally towards his master. He was building a bridge of thoughts from his head to Arthur's and once there he could then erect a similar fortress to the one he had. It took a lot of effort and by the time Merlin had completed the task beads of sweat laced his forehead and his shirt felt damp on his back. Still, he was positive that Arthur was now protected. The blond haired youth was blinking dazedly but he seemed in command of himself once more.

Merlin tried to lengthen his cerebral bridge in order to cover Rain but he could not find her anywhere. Eventually the warlock had to give up.

It was then that her namesake began to pour from the bloated, black clouds. Grudgingly, Merlin supposed there couldn't be a storm without rain.

And with the downpour the Shadows seemed to leave. Obviously they had found they could not attack Merlin and Arthur through their shields and so they decided to recede back into the heavens. The warlock had the relief he was looking for.

As the water drenched his coal hair to his scalp, the manservant hurried over to his master and grabbed his arm.

"Arthur? Are you all right?"

Looking slightly befuddled, Arthur nodded, "Yes. I think so. How come they went? Why did they not kill us?"

"I'm not sure," Merlin shrugged, the lie slipping off his tongue as easily as water off a duck's back.

"But they were so angry and yet they left us," the prince turned round and stared out into the distance. Merlin could tell he was deep in thought.

Not wanting the young man to get suspicious, Merlin decided to distract him as well as he could.

"Well…um….I guess we should look at the stones. See if we can find any clues."

"Yeah, I suppose," Arthur replied, running a hand through his already distressed hair and frowning. Then his features darkened and he spun on the spot. "Where's Rain?! They haven't got her, have they? They haven't hurt her? Merlin, where is she?"

The little girl had completely slipped from the warlock's mind, despite him trying to help her when the Shadows initially attacked. However, he still hadn't caught sight of her. Guiltily, Merlin watched as his friend began to shout across the deserted plateau. His voice echoed eerily through the silent standing stones.

"Rain? Rain! Rain!"

"Arthur," Merlin put hand on the prince's shoulder, "Rain's deaf. We'll have to find her by sight rather than sound."

"Oh…yeah." Arthur looked rather disappointed.

* * *

Trawling the long grass which surrounded the large, vertical pillars the boys found nothing. They could not see the white-blonde head of the Irish girl anywhere. Both were fast giving up hope as they reached exactly where they had started the hunt. Looking at each other through miserable and despondent eyes, the pair stood still, unsure of what to do next. What would they tell Conrí?

"Merlin!" A familiar tinkling voice called and the warlock whipped round. He caught sight of the small, pale form of Rain coming towards him from over a rise in the plateau.

"Rain." Merlin breathed a significant sigh of relief and strode quickly over to her. Arthur followed. "Where have you been? Are you all right? You aren't hurt or anything?"

Rain stared at him for a moment, attempting to decipher the words the raven-haired youth had just spoken to her. Eventually she seemed to give up and gestured for the two of them to come with her. They trailed the small child without question.

A huge stone towered over the tiny girl as she made her way towards it. She seemed unfazed by its immense height; if it fell it would surely crush her. As the pair drew nearer, Merlin noticed something which made him stop dead. Arthur shot him a mystified look.

"What's wrong, Merlin?" he asked.

"That stone is different from the rest," Merlin said, softly. By this time Rain had reached the pillar and was touching it lightly with her delicate fingers. She turned round to face them and seemed to be trying to communicate something with her eyes. Arthur could not fathom what it was but Merlin had a pretty good idea.

"What do you mean?"

"One of the Shadows is trapped in there. It's a stone prison."

**Sorry for how short it is. Review.**


	10. Shrine

**I'm sorry for Arthur being a bit of a jerk in this and probably a bit OOC.**

"How do you know the Shadow's trapped in there?" Arthur demanded, scrutinising the rock in question. It looked just like the rest to him, slate grey and uninteresting. Merlin and Rain were staring at it with awe and excitement. Personally, he didn't see what the fuss was about. Shouldn't they be worrying more about the rest of the Shadows coming back rather than one that may or may not be captured in a pillar of stone?

"Can't you tell?" Merlin murmured, "Can't you feel it?"

"I can't _feel _anything, Merlin, except this dratted rain. I'm soaked to the bone and really, really cold so if you're quite finished staring at that plain old rock then can we go?" The Prince wrapped his arms tightly around his shivering form and gritted his teeth, attempting to ignore the wind that buffeted him mercilessly.

"_Go_?" Seeming to come out a trance, the manservant turned to his master with an incredulous expression gracing his elfin features.

"Yes, Merlin, _go_," Arthur nodded as if talking to someone intellectually challenged, "You know, the opposite to stay? What you do to get places. It's a verb."

Merlin shot his master an exasperated look before continuing to inspect the rock face. He was now running his long, slender fingers along the rough surface – delving into every groove, fissure and dent. Arthur sighed. If Merlin didn't come soon then he would make him move by force.

It was then that the golden haired boy noticed Rain was staring at Merlin and his exploration with large, brown, interested eyes. Her face was a picture of concentration, much like his. She cocked her head slightly as the warlock bent down to search the foot of the pillar, his hands rummaging in the damp grass for clues.

Just when Arthur had decided he had had enough, Merlin stood up.

"One of the Shadows is locked in that rock. I don't know how or why but I know it's in there. I can hear it."

"You can?" Arthur asked, surprised. He could hear nothing except the roar of the storm. To his irritation, Merlin ignored him.

"And I know that the Shadows won't be coming back here in a hurry. They're long gone. They don't want to be captured too."

Arthur frowned, "Where have they gone then?"

"Back to England."

"To Camelot?"

"Maybe, but I think that this involves more than just Camelot, Arthur. It involves all of Albion."

"Camelot is my priority."

Merlin glanced at his master, his expression unreadable. Arthur had a feeling that he knew more than he was letting on. Somehow his simple manservant seemed more complex and intriguing than usual, the Prince was desperately curious to understand. He didn't like being kept out of the loop.

"Well then," Arthur began, trying to reassert himself in a position of authority despite Merlin's knowledge on the subject. "Why don't we stop procrastinating here and get something done about these damn Shadows." Then the man faltered when he saw his companion's face.

"_Procrastinating?_" The manservant repeated, lifting one eyebrow and twitching his lips.

"Yes, Merlin. Good god, do I really need to be a walking word definer for you?"

"No, I just didn't know you possessed such a vocabulary," Merlin smirked and then ducked out of the way of a well aimed blow on Arthur's part. Glowering at his friend, the blond boy turned on the spot and began trudging away from the pair.

"You really better be following, Merlin, or I am going to get very angry _very _quickly," he said without looking round.

"And you aren't angry now, sire?"

If Merlin hoped that by adding 'sire' at the end of his extremely audacious statement then he would get away without repercussions then he was sorely mistaken, Arthur thought. The cheeky servant would get his comeuppance. In fact, now seemed as good a time as any.

With that thought in mind and aware that the servant boy had grabbed Rain's hand and was hurrying to catch up, Arthur allowed a small, mischievous smile to work its way across his lips. He had reached the edge of the plateau and paused for a moment, looking out on the beauty of the land that was Ireland. It stretched out for miles: undulating hills, thick carpets of fir trees, glimmering lakes that were darkened by the weather; the sea wasn't all that far away either. If he squinted then Arthur could make out several ships harboured on the choppy waves. They looked toy-like from his view.

As he waited his shoulders tensed and he consciously made them relax for if Merlin noticed then the game was up.

Arthur felt the wind buffet his hair, whipping his blond locks up into a tangled frenzy that obscured his vision and was thoroughly irritating. Not only was it in his way but it was wet too and stung when it slapped his cheeks and eyes. Running his tongue over his salty lips the Prince continued to linger at the point where the flat plain of the mountain and the slope began.

"Enjoying the view?" Arthur heard Merlin's voice and judged with his hunter instincts how close the boy was. Just another second.

Then the Prince spun round as quickly as the lightning which flashed vividly above his head and grabbed Merlin's arm. He had judged it just perfectly. Merlin's feet shot out from beneath him as he was bowled over by an Arthur sized ball. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he let out a shocked gasp of surprise.

However, things did not go to plan. When he launched his attack, the older boy had planned to knock the other over, yes, and stun him, yes. That would serve him right. But what he hadn't counted on was the strength with which he crashed into the warlock, nor his lightness. The two of them spun in a circle so fast that Rain let go of Merlin's hand in fear and dropped to her knees, eyes wide.

And then Arthur found that his manservant was no longer in his grip. Merlin had vanished over the edge having been catapulted at great speed by his master. Now he was making a sickeningly fast descent down the steep slope. He was tossed like a ragdoll, smashed into rocks and rolled over bracken. Nausea rose in the Prince's stomach as he realised just what he'd done.

"Merlin!" He yelled in horror. His voice was lost in the ferocious wind, consumed by the storm.

* * *

Merlin was aware of everything and yet he was aware of nothing. The world around him was a blur - a very painful, disorientating blur. He had no idea which way was up and what was down. Occasionally he saw what he thought was a glimpse of the black sky but it was so fleeting that he couldn't be sure. He could be sure, however, when his face was pressed forcefully into the cliff-face and he received a mouthful of mud, heather and, more disturbingly, the metallic tang of blood.

The fall seemed to be never-ending and yet Merlin didn't remembered half of it. All he could recall was the hitting of the ledge. He could definitely remember that and feel it. Every single one of his bones had cracked loudly as they struck the stone surface and then reflected back into the air before coming down to rest in a battered pile. His head rang.

Gradually, Merlin blinked open his eyes and tried to ignore the pain that enveloped his thin frame. His body had already withstood the beatings of bandits and this fall had really not helped matters of recovery. The boy could feel every ache and bruise and cut. Little needles of pain on his skin, made by the bracken, were the least of his worries.

Rain was still pelting down on his face and Merlin wished for it to stop, then maybe he could get his thoughts together. As it was he was cold, wet _and _in pain. Shifting slightly and trying to sit up from his prone position, the warlock winced as he placed his hand on the floor for support. Arrows of agony speared up from his wrist. He deduced that, most likely, it was broken. That was just great. Using his other arm to lever himself up, Merlin glanced around him.

He was sitting on a ledge. This ledge was jutting out of the steep incline and Merlin would never have even seen it had he not landed on it. What he wouldn't have seen either was the dark mouth of a cave set into the hill. In the past, the boy guessed that there were steps leading up to the cavern but they had worn away over the years and now it was near impossible to reach the entrance. Intrigued by his discovery, Merlin dragged himself to his feet – attempting to ignore the shaking and protests of his legs – and stumbled towards the hole.

Because of his curiosity he forgot completely about the man who had caused him to fall in the first place and the little girl with him. They were a distant memory in his dazed and addled brain. He only had enough focus for one thing at a time.

He was so befuddled that Merlin even forgot that he was not permitted to use magic and lit the torches which still hung in brackets on the wall after all this time. They burst into light and flooded the space with an orangey, flickering glow. After blinking slightly and adjusting his eyes to the brightness, Merlin began to explore the cave with interest.

From what he could see, it was some kind of temple or shrine set into the mountainside. Maybe the villagers used to come up here in the past and offer gifts to the gods – high places tended to be good places of worship. Merlin could make out a small statue carved into the far wall which he guessed was the long-forgotten deity. Perhaps it was from Roman times.

Wandering over, the warlock gently touched the god's little pointed face – eroded and worn over the years so that his nose blended into his cheeks. His eyes were shallow hollows.

"You've been here a long time, haven't you?" Merlin breathed.

He looked away from the god and inspected the rest of the shrine. It was then that he noticed the pictures on the wall. They depicted dark figures and fighting scenes, Merlin could just about make out spears and swords and fires. One side seemed to be armed and the other was not, that was strange in itself. Following the images along the wall, the carvings became less clear and choppier. And either the carver had lost interest or one side seemed to be depleting considerably in number whereas the other side stayed exactly the same.

With his heart in his mouth Merlin counted them: thirty. The warlock's eyes widened in shock and understanding.

These were the Shadows. This battle had happened before; they'd plagued the land and its people. Therefore, somehow, they must have been defeated. Excitement and anticipation brewing in his stomach, the raven headed servant continued to work out what the images meant.

A figure had risen out of the depleting side, his arms held high. Beside him stood two other figures. They were opposing the Shadows, despite the seemingly hopeless nature of the situation.

That's when Merlin noticed the ring of stones which had been drawn hurriedly on the wall, etched in scratchy lines. The figure was standing in the middle of them and the Shadows surrounded him and the stones. Wavy lines connected the figure to the stones to the Shadows.

And finally Merlin understood. There were thirty stones. Thirty Shadows. Thirty prisons…

And him.


	11. Searching

**Very caring, concerned Arthur in this chapter to make up for his ass-y-ness in last chapter. :) Thanks very much for the reviews! They really are good writing fuel. **

Arthur stumbled down the hillside, sending stones and dirt flying with his wild footsteps. Occasionally he would slip a little farther than he'd expected and several tense seconds would be spent with arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance. His heart would be in his mouth. Still, the man would not relent in his rapid descent no matter how dangerous and precarious.

This was entirely his fault. How on earth could he have been so bloody stupid? What kind of man _throws _his servant – his friend – off a mountain?! And this man is supposed to be a future king. At this moment in time Arthur viewed himself as no more than an ignorant, selfish, immature….prat. That word seemed befitting. The Prince had no doubt that Merlin would agree. If he was still alive that was.

Beneath his boot a particularly rain-slicked stone gave way and sent the man sprawling several feet down the slope. Arthur grunted in pain as his shoulder connected with the ground and skidded. Fortunately the blond Prince did not fall far and he felt guilty for that in its self. Merlin had fallen way farther and much harder.

Blinking the rain out of his eyes, Arthur raked back his fringe from his face, fiercely, and scrambled to his feet. Then he continued his descent with the air of a desperate man who was fearful of losing what he held most dear.

_Boom. _The Prince jumped as the thunder rolled across the sky. It sounded to him like the gods were angry.

Arthur had left Rain at the top. There was no way that he was going to let her make this perilous journey with him. She may be sure footed and know her way around the mountain but he wasn't taking any chances where her safety was concerned. He'd already hurt Merlin, he wasn't going to hurt a little girl too. Besides, Arthur knew that Merlin might be in a state when he was found – these rocks were hardly forgiving on a soft, human body – and he didn't want Rain to witness anything that could scar her for life. Even the Prince didn't know whether _he_,the usually immovable and detached, brave and strong knight, would be able to take what his eyes saw.

His stomach was already turning at the image which his mind was conjuring in his head. A bent and broken Merlin. His back snapped over a rock like a bow that had been twisted the wrong way or his brains spilled out on the ground for all to see – grey and glistening. Arthur imagined his wide, staring blue eyes and blood trickling from the corner of Merlin's mouth and almost vomited right there. Somehow he managed to hold it together though.

Surely he should have found the raven headed servant by now? How far could one man fall?

Far enough, his mind answered cruelly.

Arthur was practically slithering down the incline now because it was so steep. He couldn't walk properly upright. The wet grass and heather provided a good slide but they also drenched his trousers right through.

_Thunk. _His feet had hit something hard. Solid. Edging forwards a bit farther, Arthur realised that he had come across a ledge. This ledge was very narrow but still stuck out from the mountainside enough for him to land safely on. Could Merlin have landed on the same ledge? If so, where had he gone now? Looking down over the precipice, all Arthur could see was a very vertical drop.

_Please _say Merlin didn't fall down there, Arthur begged the heavens.

Suddenly he was aware of something in his peripheral vision, something flickering and bright. Whipping round on the spot, Arthur caught sight of an entrance to a cave lined with flaming torches. It leered out of the cliff side at him like some gruesome monster's mouth. A slash in the earth's crust. Questions buzzed around the Prince's head, each wanting to be answered first. How had this cave gotten here? How had the torches been lit? What was inside? Was it safe? Was Fate bringing him in here?

But Arthur ignored them. There was a primary question in his mind that needed tending to and that was: is Merlin in there? The Prince desperately wanted the answer to be yes.

Stepping into the unknown, the knight unconsciously reached for his absent sword. When his fingers closed on thin air he willed himself to be strong. There would be nothing dangerous in there. At the worst it would be empty; at best Merlin would be in there. Arthur hoped dearly for the latter.

Inside Arthur blinked to adjust to the light change – much like Merlin had before him – and looked around him. Immediately he deduced it was a temple of some sort, he recognised it from similar ones he'd seen scattered around the countryside. That wasn't what he cared about though, what he wanted to know was whether his manservant was in here.

And he was.

Slightly hunched and trembling but still very much alive, Merlin stood with his back to his master. He was staring, seemingly enraptured by the wall in front of him, his fingers traced faint outlines.

Initially Arthur felt a small irrational spurt of anger at his manservant's lingering here. He had been hanging around in this little temple whilst the Prince had been worrying himself stupid. He had thought that the boy could be _dead _for crying out loud! Merlin could have at least had the courtesy to tell him that he was all right before gallivanting off exploring.

Then the golden headed boy came to his senses. He had no right – _none _at all – to be angry at the poor servant. It was Arthur that had launched him off a hill in the first place, it was hardly his fault. Besides, Merlin wasn't looking in that great shape. Even from this distance the young man didn't miss the large, dark gash matting his crowm of raven hair. Nor did he neglect to see the arm held protectively against the manservant's chest.

No wonder Merlin didn't seem with it completely.

Arthur guessed that Merlin would have struggled getting up the mountain back to him anyway, not with the injuries he had sustained. It was time to make himself known so they could get the boy down the mountain as quickly as possible and then he could be tended to. Conrí seemed like the kind of man to know how to treat wounds, hadn't he talked about learning the medicinal uses of plants? He would know what to do.

"Merlin?"

At first Merlin did not turn but Arthur drew closer to him and, as if sensing his presence, the servant turned round to face his master. Several ugly wounds marred his boyish face too. A large cut above his eyebrow dribbled fresh, red blood down his pale skin – streaking ghastly crimson lines like a gruesome piece of artwork. On his cheekbone a purple-blue bruise was already forming, deforming that side of his head with the swelling.

"Geez, Merlin," Arthur breathed.

"Is it bad?" Merlin asked, somehow a small smile had graced his bloody lips.

"Pretty bad," the older man agreed, wincing slightly just at the sight. In fact, he really wanted to look away. Seeing Merlin like this hurt him like he would never admit and to think, he had _caused _such devastation.

"Well, I suppose it could have been worse."

"Yeah," Arthur agreed. He found words were failing him.

"I found this temple though. I guess every cloud has a silver lining." The raven haired adolescent gestured to the space around him with his uninjured hand. Arthur just stared at him. He really wanted to do something to tend to Merlin's wounds, to help him alleviate the pain he _must _be in, but the manservant was carrying on as if nothing was wrong. The shock had probably not allowed the pain to set in yet. Arthur had seen that in some of his most grievously wounded knights. However, he hadn't expected such stoicism and bravery in his servant.

"I can see that. Though I don't think I would call it a silver lining," Arthur said, "Merlin, are you sure you don't need to sit down?" He added the last bit as Merlin staggered a little. Concern flooded his face.

"No, don't you see how important this place is Arthur?" Merlin asked. His eyes had a sort of glassy yet strangely excited quality.

"I don't but I'm sure you are about to tell me. Do it quickly though because I'm not sure how long you'll be standing on your feet." The Prince moved neared to his servant and offered a supporting hand. It was shrugged off.

"This is the temple of Erebus," Merlin said with a shaky flourish.

"Yes…" Arthur nodded. He wasn't really listening now; he was concentrating too much on Merlin's fast deteriorating condition. Any minute now he was sure to keel over.

"Erebus is the Roman god of darkness and shadows."

"Uhuh." Arthur was sure that Merlin's left leg was weakening.

"Don't you get it, Arthur?! God of _Shadows_! The Shadows that are attacking Albion. There are these pictures, they show these scenes."

"Hmm….scenes of what Merlin? Why don't you just sit here, look, on this stone?"

"Stones!" Merlin repeated dazedly. Arthur was reminded of the drunks he'd dealt with him in his time. "Yes, the stones are the prisons. Stone Prisons. I have to trap them, the Shadows, in the Stone Prisons. Then everything will be all right."

"Oh….and how do you intend to do that?" Arthur asked offhandedly just as his manservant collapsed into his waiting arms. "Gotcha."

**If you hadn't guessed I was kind of implying that Merlin has concussion. You couldn't really blame him after a tumble like that!**


	12. Swarm

**Two updates within a _day _aren't you guys lucky?! And an extra long chapter at that. I think I got a bit carried away. I just really want to get this story finished so I can focus on some of my others. I have realised that the last few chapters have been very Arthur centric and from his POV so for that, if you don't like it, I'm sorry. Please review as it makes me extraordinarily happy!**

Arthur was sure he weighed twice as much as Merlin if not three times. If he was in a mood to be rude to the boy then he would say that the warlock weighed less than a girl. There really was _nothing _to him. He recalled the time when he'd grabbed the unconscious manservant off the floor and slung him over his shoulder after he drank that dratted poison. It had been like picking up a sack of corn. The only problems with carrying Merlin were his limbs – they were too long and flopped all over the place – and his boniness because Arthur found pointy bits jutting into his body no matter where he held the servant. Currently, Merlin's pelvis was digging into his chest and his chin into his back.

Shifting for the umpteenth time, Arthur let out a strained grunt and winced as Merlin's elbow slammed into his shoulder blade. For crying out loud the boy needed to put on more weight – he was skin and bone. The Prince was sure that his dogs where more bulked out than his manservant. If he was to challenge a skeleton in a skinniness competition then, truthfully, it would be a close call.

Thankfully, the rain had petered off and therefore the blond man did not have to contend with that as well. Instead he focussed on ignoring the digging pain in his stomach. He tensed in an attempt to alleviate some pressure.

Beside him, Rain skipped along, her slender arms swinging gaily by her sides. She seemed unaffected by the whole situation. Her demeanour had yet to change. Arthur had been worried that seeing Merlin in such a sorry state would upset her but she had simply stared at him, stroked his cheek, and then set off to lead the way back to Conrí's cave. The Prince had gladly followed.

As he walked, Arthur had some time to consider the garbled mess that was Merlin's earlier explanation back in the temple. He understood that the warlock seemed to think he had discovered a way to destroy the Shadows but how he wasn't sure. Vaguely he recalled something about stones and prisons. What he did remember though, was the fact that Merlin believed he would be the one to defeat them.

Unlikely, Arthur thought condescendingly. Still, he had to give the boy some credit as he had, in the past, shown he was pretty useful in a dire situation. However, in this state, Arthur wasn't sure that Merlin would be much use to anyone.

To be honest, all Arthur really wanted to do was go home. Yes, he had promised his father that he would rid Camelot of the demonic Shadows but he hadn't bargained on it being quite so hard. He was not used to being in an unfamiliar country, stripped of his prince hood by hate, weapon-less, penniless and practically helpless. Arthur liked to be in control of his surroundings. Well, most of all he liked to be armed, so much to the extent that he was considering entering the nearest village and seeing if he could pilfer a blade. That would have to wait, though, Merlin needed to be sorted out first.

* * *

By the time they had reached Conrí's cave, Arthur found he was extremely hungry – so much so it hurt. His stomach grumbled angrily, demanding to be fed. The Prince tried to ignore the hunger pangs but he was definitely glad that Conrí seemed prepared for their arrival. He had hot soup and bread ready.

Merlin was given the only bed in the place. As he lay the raven headed man down, Arthur wondered where Rain slept. Glancing around surreptitiously, he could see no other sleeping space. Sprawled on the blankets and furs, the warlock looked exhausted and pained. His eyes were underlined by deep, dark circles and his face was drawn and pinched. Blood had dried on his face and body as the blood clotted and stemmed.

Immediately, Conrí set about sorting the manservant out and Arthur was reminded of Gaius, the court physician, bumbling round his chambers in search of a medicine or book. Homesickness always struck when you least expected it and the Prince was surprised by the nauseating feeling in his stomach. Absurdly, he missed the old man.

"Out of the way, out of the way," Conrí muttered, flailing his arms around and almost catching Arthur on the side of the face. Fortunately, the younger man sidestepped neatly and helped himself to a piece of bread – wolfing it down. He noticed that Rain was staring at him oddly but he ignored her in favour of tearing off another hunk of bread. In a way he felt bad because he was eating whilst Merlin could be dying but he would do no good to the youth if he was incapacitated too.

"Can you help him?"

"Of course I can," the elderly hermit snapped, "_If _you get out of my _way_!" He shoved the knight with unexpected strength so he could reach a jar behind him. All the while he muttered to himself in a breathy undertone.

"Sorry," Arthur murmured, his cheeks darkening. He didn't like feeling in the way and out of place.

"Don't say sorry, boy, just pass me that knife."

Arthur paled, horrified. "Knife?"

"Yes," Conrí rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "To cut off his clothes."

"Oh, all right." The Prince breathed a heavy sigh of relief and passed the blade.

The hermit snatched the hilt from him and then sliced Merlin's clothes cleanly from his body. Arthur felt an odd sense of sorrow as Conrí tore Merlin's most prized blue shirt a tossed it carelessly to the side. Quietly, he bent down and picked it up.

Merlin had bruises on his bruises. To try and comfort himself, the blond man reminded himself that a lot of those injuries had been caused by the bandits on the beach. Arthur's botch attempt at strapping his servant's ribs, despite being not great, probably helped save his ribs this time round.

His torso was a collage of scarlet cuts, pinkish-red grazes, browning bruises and new fresh dark purple ones. He took the saying of black and blue to a _whole _knew level.

"What's the verdict?" Arthur asked apprehensively, crossing his arms over his chest and taking up an almost defensive stance.

"Well, he'll live, if that's what you're asking," Conrí said gravely, turning to his visitor and staring at him with milky blue eyes.

"Good. That's the main thing."

"He's got many bruises and gashes that will need stitches. His wrist is very badly broken so I will need to set it, wrap it and then splint it."

"How long will it take to heal?"

"A while."

"Right."

"I will make him up a medicine for the pain. When he wakes he will be hurting – a lot. You can leave me to it. Why don't you get some rest?"

"Oh, I don't know…" Arthur began.

"Take sleep where you can get it, Arthur Pendragon. I will make sure Merlin is fine."

"I suppose, if you say so…."

* * *

Night had fallen over Ireland. Diamond stars studded the velvet black sky and the moon hung lazily, suspended in infinite space. The land was blanketed in darkness, a child being put to sleep until another day dawned. Quiet, eerie cries of wildcats and nocturnal birds could be heard in the otherwise silent world.

Arthur looked out from the entrance of the cavern set into the mountainside. He leant casually against the rock wall with his arms crossed. A gentle breeze ruffled his golden hair, almost caressing it with cool tendrils. He relished the feel of nature on his skin. Behind him was a faint glow emitting from the hollow in the cliff – Conrí had lit a small fire with which to cook with. However, Arthur felt suffocated by the smoky interior and the constantly flickering light source, he needed some fresh air.

Gazing down the valley, the man's eyes picked out the toy-like outline of the Irish village and the dull, miniscule spots of light that must be their night time fires and candles. He sighed. At this moment in time he was kind of missing civilisation.

A wolf howled in the distance.

The young man was aware of a presence behind him and he spoke without turning round. "Conrí? Is Merlin still asleep?"

"Yes, he is resting, it will do him good."

Arthur nodded, satisfied.

"Did you learn anything?" the old man queried, coming to stand beside him. He also looked out upon the darkened region.

"Learn what?"

"Did you learn anything on your trip? Did you find what you were looking for?"

"No. Though we did meet the Shadows again. They looked like they were going to kill us but then they left. It was strange." Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Merlin said they went back to England. He thinks that he can defeat them."

"And do you believe him?"

"Well…not really. I mean he's just a servant, he may be slightly more intelligent than most but he's still a servant nonetheless."

"And being a servant makes you less intelligent does it?" Conrí questioned, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly. He raised an eyebrow in the Prince's direction.

"Well….no, not exactly," Arthur frowned.

"Not exactly?" the Irishman persisted.

"I just don't see how a completely normal village boy can have a hope of beating magical creatures."

"And you think you can?"

"I don't know." Arthur glanced over at the wrinkled, old man who stared back at him, eyes bright and questioning. His wispy hair shifted in the wind. "I might have more of a chance."

"Don't underestimate, Merlin, young Pendragon, there is more to him than meets the eye." With that cryptic statement, Conrí wandered back into the cave and left Arthur standing alone and befuddled. He was about to turn around and ask the old man a question but he paused midway and shook his head. He shouldn't let such an odd hermit get to him. There wasn't probably anything much to the proclamation.

As he twisted round and continued to observe the black landscape, Arthur's sharp eyes caught sight of something. To begin with he wasn't quite sure what it was and he had to really strain to understand what he was seeing. Then the gravity of what it was hit him.

What he could see were blots of orange on the otherwise pitch black canvas. These he could have passed off as lights in houses like he'd noticed before. However, there was one significant difference: these blots moved….towards the cave. Arthur's eyes widened and he uncrossed his arms.

"Oh no," he murmured. Whipping round, the Prince stared into the cave behind him and then back again. Merlin was in there, injured and vulnerable. He could guess already that these night visitors would not be pleasant or friendly.

"Arthur, are you all right?" Conrí called from within.

"I….Conrí, we have a problem. You need to hide. Get Merlin and Rain to safety."

"Why?" As if by magic, the old hermit was at his side.

"There are some people coming."

"How can you tell they pose a threat?"

"I can just sense it, trust me," Arthur stated, running a hand through his already distressed hair. Once again his hand went unconsciously to his belt where his sword was no longer.

"Well, I think you are right. They don't look all that friendly but why should we leave and you not?"

Arthur gaped like a floundering fish for a moment. He knew what he needed to say and his reasons behind his decision but it sounded rude to say it out loud. Still, it needed to be said.

"Merlin is an invalid, Rain is a little girl and you are an elderly man." The young man finally forced out. "I have none of those excuses. I am a knight and therefore, sword or not, I shall fight them."

"Well together don't we amount to one man?" Conrí asked, raising his bushy white eyebrows. "Besides, it seems foolish for one man to go into battle, even if he is skilled, without a sword. That is suicide."

"What do you suggest?" Arthur snapped. They needed to get going quickly or else the attackers would be upon them. He could hear their fierce chanting and see the glints of pitch forks in the flames.

"I suggest we all run."

"I don't run." The Prince was immediate and blunt with his response.

"Perhaps you could go against your code?"

"No. I want you to take Merlin and Rain and leave. _Now_!" Arthur demanded with some vigour.

Conrí looked at him once, his face unreadable. Then he hurried as fast as his limping, shuffling gait would allow back into the depths of the cave. Moments later he appeared with Rain.

"Merlin says he will not leave."

"_What?_" Arthur groaned. It was just like Merlin to be stubborn and annoying in these situations. He never listened. The Prince swore he did just the opposite of what he wanted for the hell of it. "Tell him that I order him to go."

"I am afraid I don't think even that will budge him."

* * *

_Kill the English. Rid Ireland of the English. They vandalise our temples, our shrines. Bring Death upon the land. Kill the English. _

This mantra rose up the mountain side as Arthur waited, a wooden broom in one hand. He knew this was going to be the death of him. Those villagers looked nasty – they were baying for blood. He would fight his hardest but even he could not defeat the vast numbers.

Beside him stood Merlin, weakened and white, leaning heavily against the stone wall, drawing strength from its solidness. The manservant still refused to leave and Arthur could do or say nothing to change his mind. No matter how much he threatened him. He couldn't even threaten him with pain of death because that was where they were headed anyway.

Hopefully Conrí and Rain would be long gone by now, though. They alone had escaped certain death.

"You all right, Merlin?" Arthur said, glancing at his servant with something akin to care and concern. His friend offered him a small smile in return.

"Never better," Merlin stated. Arthur snorted. "Well, I suppose I have been better but at this moment in time I would not want to be anywhere other than here."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sire."

"I'm glad you decided to stay," Arthur admitted, quietly.

"Me too. Though I doubt I'll be of much use."

"Neither will I. What do you expect me to do with this?" The Prince jerked the broom in his grip with a dry chuckle. "Batter them with it?"

"Better than nothing, eh?"

"They're nearly here."

"You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

The torrent of men rose up over the rise of the hill like a swarm of bees. Their shouts and yells and chanting deafened the two youths. Merlin winced with each slander and death threat. Pitch forks and swords glinted and glittered in the moonlight. Those blades would surely be plunging into either him or Arthur within a short time. That was unless he did something. Maybe now was the time to final reveal his magic. It was as good a time as any.

He was so weak though and tired; could he even summon the magic he needed? Of course he could, it was literally flowing through his veins; it was part of him. He was just scared of the repercussions. A coward even in the face of death. Glancing at Arthur beside him, looking fierce but yet defenceless with his stupid, pitiful broom handle. Merlin knew he had to use his magic for him: to save his life if no one else's.

It was just as he had made his ultimate decision and the men were literally five metres away that the wolves appeared - as dark and silent as the mist which had suddenly descended upon the land.


	13. Saved

**Thank you very much for the reviews. Don't particularly like this chapter. I had writer's block and although I wanted to spurn as many chapters out as possible so I could finish it, I just couldn't! Grr! Very irritating. Bear with me. It will improve. **

They were creatures of the night; melting out of the shadows. Large amber eyes glowed in the darkness. Their outlines were unclear and they all seemed to meld together as one; therefore numbers were hard to deduce. Roughly, there were around fifteen. Each of them was as ethereal and elusive as a ghost – the spirits of the forest.

Low growls could be heard, rumbling from their throats, as the prowled into sight. For a moment both sides where unsure of what they were doing there. Then all became clear as one wolf, huge and black, suddenly leapt forward, a snarl curled his lips. He was attacking the villagers. To begin with they recoiled, cries of fear and confusion disrupting the ranks, but then they realised that the beasts were nothing more than animals and began to fight back in earnest.

The night was filled with the snapping of jaws, the screams of men and the yelps on both sides. Merlin and Arthur stared on, astonished. Never had they seen so many wolves in their lives, occasionally one would catch the odd glimpse on a hunting trip but never this close.

And they were fighting for them. That was what was incredible.

Arthur desperately wanted to help them and he had jerked forward in an effort to do so but a restraining hand had been placed on his arm, pulling him back. Merlin's sky blue eyes glittered in the moonlight as he shook his head once. The Prince understood that the boy did not want him to fight and he supposed he had a point – without a weapon then Arthur would probably be a hindrance rather than a help.

Several bodies lay scattered on the ground but no wolves seemed to have fallen in the fray. The villagers were gradually retreating, being beaten back by the onslaught of fur and claws. They had no hope of defeating such creatures. They turned tail and fled. A few flaming torches burned, abandoned on the ground, as their owners escaped.

The wolves turned and Merlin tensed apprehensively, he felt his master do the same beside him. For all they knew the beasts could just attack them too, maybe they were protecting their territory and clearing out any humans that dared to enter their path. They had formed a lose formation and were standing, staring emotionlessly at the two young men, eyes reflecting the white moon. It was a rare spectacle and it may be the last thing they ever witnessed. Silence had fallen upon the land.

Then, suddenly, the large black wolf stepped forwards, his padded feet soundless on the rocky ground. His gaze was intense and unyielding. Neither boy could tear his eyes away. With his head held high and his muzzle slicked with fresh, warm blood, the alpha male made a formidable sight.

Merlin and Arthur were at a loss of what to do as the creature observed them coolly. It didn't seem as if the pack was going to kill them too; it seemed like they were waiting for something.

It was then that the manservant realised what they wanted. Shakily, he limped forwards and until he was face to face with the leader. Then, when he'd reached the point he felt he needed to, the raven headed boy bowed his head respectfully.

"Thank you," he stated, softly.

The wolf nodded once back and then turned around and he and the pack quietly vanished once again into the depths of the forests.

Merlin seemed drained of energy despite only moving a few paces. His skin was pale in the bluish night; his cheekbones stark on his thin face. Arthur offered him a shoulder of support which, surprisingly, he took. It must be a testament to how much pain and exhaustion Merlin was experiencing for him to accept the help.

"So…" Arthur began, uncertainly, "What exactly happened then?"

"The wolves saved us."

"Yeah, I got that, but _why_?"

"How should I know?" Merlin muttered, though by his defensive, edgy tone, the Prince guessed that he did actually have an idea. Why wasn't he telling him then? What was he hiding?

"Well, I damn glad they did. Otherwise I'm not sure what we would have done."

"Are you admitting that maybe you couldn't have defeated all those men on your own?" A small chuckle escaped the manservant's lips.

"Perhaps." Arthur shrugged, embarrassedly. "But what I want to know is how they knew we were up here in the first place? I mean it wasn't as if we were advertising our presence. We left that village pretty quickly."

"I think it was the Shadows. They were probably up to their old trickery again."

"What? I thought you said they had gone back to Britain."

Merlin offered him an incredulous look, "Oh come on, Arthur, you can't expect them _all _to go back to England, not will us here trying to find a way to destroy them. That would be plain stupid."

"All right, genius," Arthur snapped and once again he crossed his arms, brow furrowing.

"Well, anyway, we're still alive even so."

The two of them had migrated back into the cave and the Prince was subtly guiding his manservant to the bed on which he had previously been laid out on. He didn't want Merlin collapsing after all. Fortunately, the boy seemed too rapt up in thoughts to really pay much attention to Arthur's coaxing and he didn't protest at all. Eventually he ended up sitting on the rugs with his head in his hands. Arthur stood over him and had to admit he looked awful.

"_Just_ alive," the Prince murmured.

Merlin ran a tired fingers through his raven locks and then looked up at his master with hazy blue eyes.

"Just," he repeated, then, "Do you think Conrí and Rain will come back?"

"I don't know, perhaps."

"I need to ask him some things." As the warlock said this, Arthur was half aware that he wasn't really being addressed; the boy was talking to himself. Raising a blond eyebrow, the Prince decided that he would persist. Maybe he would pester Merlin later, when he was feeling stronger.

* * *

Merlin was exhausted. All his limbs ached and he just wanted the curl up and forget all about the pain – find peace in oblivion. His mind would just not cooperate though; it was a storm of thoughts which all screamed to be heard. He could have sworn they were literally reverberating off the bone inside his skull like continuous, irritating bells. As if he didn't already have enough ailments, he could now add headache to that list.

He soon realised the only way he could ever hope of sleeping was to resolve and sort out the ideas and problems bothering him. One of which was the fact that Merlin was fairly certain he knew who had sent the wolves to their aid. He distinctly remembered the words said to him only a day ago. Conrí had introduced himself and the warlock recalled what he said about his name: _"Which means king of the wolves if you're interested."_

King of the Wolves.

That was too accurate to be coincidental. Merlin was positive that Conrí had been telling the truth and had revealed more than the two of them could ever have realised. However, the manservant wasn't planning on telling his master. A man that had power over animals and such a title could only be viewed as one thing in Arthur's culture and upbringing. The assumption would be, immediately, that he was a sorcerer. Merlin had no idea how the Prince would react to that and he wasn't going to gamble the life of the old man and his adopted charge. He would keep his mouth shut.


	14. Secret

**I'm trying to get things moving more quickly so I can finish this story soon and have it done and dusted before exams. Therefore hopefully you will enjoy this update.**

**By the way, this chapter is dedicated to MagicByMerlin for actually PMing me to update. I did it! Aren't you proud of me?**

Conrí and Rain did not appear back at the cave the next day so an exhausted Merlin and an impatient Arthur remained in the old man's home to wait for him. The manservant spent the majority of his time sleeping, trying to recuperate after his fall. His injuries had severely damaged his body and his cells needed all the energy they could to recover and repair.

That left a bored and restless Arthur to pace the cave and fiddle with whatever he could find. Nothing was left unturned by his wandering hands as he discovered strange instruments, huge tomes, pickled creatures and odd rocks littering every surface and shelf. Medicines of various types lined an old, rickety dresser at the back of the cavern and the Prince spent a great deal of time reading the obscure, scruffy labels in an attempt to decipher what exactly was in each jar or pot. Eventually even that became too tedious for his inactive brain and he had to escape outside. The fresh air and open space was bliss after his captivity.

Strangely, the young man found himself longing for the wolves to return. Despite being utterly terrified at their presence – not that he would ever admit that to Merlin – he desperately wanted to observe their exquisite natural beauty once more. In his mind's eye they were fading and he didn't want to lose such an evocative memory. He doubted whether he would ever again be witness to such a rare spectacle. Not only that but he felt guilty for not thanking the creatures of the forest personally, like Merlin had. He didn't feel as though he had shown his appreciation enough.

Regardless of whether he _wanted _them to emergence, he knew they were very unlikely to do so. It wasn't in a wolf's character to make frequent appearances for humans. In fact, it wasn't natural to a wolf to protect man but for some reason it had happened. And Arthur was extremely thankful for the miracle. However, he was still rather curious as to why the incident had occurred. His mind reeled at the improbabilities.

As he pondered their good fortune he was suddenly aware of another presence nearby and his neck snapped up immediately. His blue eyes caught sight of Rain who had appeared from just below a ridge, her silvery blonde hair billowing out behind her. She smiled when she spotted him; the smile was radiant and Arthur was astounded by the display of pleasure. Rain never smiled.

Then, over the brow of the precipice another head appeared, this was not human however. The head was that of a beautiful, grey-white wolf with large amber eyes set into its soft face. It surveyed Arthur with an unfamiliar warmness that he would never have associated with such an elusive creature. Somehow the man knew that this animal was not a threat even as it stood beside the small girl. It was too gentle.

Rain started forward and the wolf padded silently beside her and the Prince felt his heart lump in his throat. The wolf was _following _the child. It was not running away and it didn't even look apprehensive of being around humans.

"Rain," Arthur began but stopped by the cutting motion that the girl made to him. Obviously she didn't want him to talk. With confused eyes, the boy watched the youngster pat the wolf once and then wander over to his side.

"This…." Rain said, "….Conrí."

The Prince continued to look befuddled.

"This….wolf….Conrí." Rain looked frustrated when Arthur seemed still not to have grasped the concept. His brain was just not wired in a way to make such links. Impossibilities did not occur to him easily. He had to be _told_. He couldn't piece jigsaws together on his own.

"I was wrong." An awed voice spoke behind Arthur and he swivelled on the spot to be face with Merlin who stood in the entrance to the cave. "He's not just the leader of the wolves, he _is _a wolf."

"The King," Rain supplied her eyes bright with pleasure at Merlin's understanding.

"Say what?!" The young Pendragon looked perplexed and mystified.

"That wolf, my lord, is Conrí."

"That's impossible."

"He's a shape shifter. A werewolf."

Merlin had heard of such tales about monsters in his village when they'd had festivals to ward of demons at the full moon time. He'd never really thought much of them, believing there to be little truth supporting the myths. They were just stories to scare children. He supposed that maybe he should have a more open mind now that he witnessed many other magical beings. In fact, he vaguely remembered reading about werewolves in one of Gaius' massive books.

"A werewolf? You've got to be kidding me," Arthur looked sceptical, his handsome face contorted with disbelief. Merlin wasn't sure whether he _didn't _believe or he didn't want to believe.

"I'm not kidding, Arthur, I think that's why those wolves helped us last night because Conrí was leading or at least aiding them. I mean why else would they protect a couple of nondescript humans?"

"I…."

"Think about it."

"I am _thinking _Merlin. And I do believe you before you ask. It's just a lot to take in," Arthur snapped when it looked like his manservant was going to persist with his reasoning.

Both boys stood in silence for a moment. The amber eyed wolf stared between the two of them expectantly. Conrí didn't seem to have any immediate plans of changing back into on old man.

"So….he's a sorcerer," the Prince finally deduced.

"Well….I'm not sure whether you would class what he can do as sorcery."

"Why not? He changes into a damn _wolf_, Merlin."

"Yes but I don't think he does spells and things. He just changes shape." Merlin desperately wanted to defend the old hermit, just in case Arthur had wavering opinions.

"Oh and that's not magic at all is it?"

"Even if it is magic then you have no right to do anything about it," the manservant blurted out.

"Oh?" Arthur raised his eyebrows incredulously.

"No, because we are in Ireland and in Ireland magic is permitted in all shapes and forms. This is not your kingdom and therefore you do not carry out the rules or the punishments."

"You see very keen to defend a sorcerer, Merlin," the older man said slowly.

Merlin paused, his eyes widening for a moment.

"Perhaps I happen to like Conrí and don't want to see you kill him. Maybe I don't want to see an innocent man die and leave a little girl an orphan." He shrugged. "Make of my argument what you will."

"I suppose you're right," Arthur nodded slowly. "It's not my place."

The warlock was astounded that his master had relented so easily. He had barely had to fight his corner at all before the Prince had given in. Possibly Arthur was more open-minded than everyone – Merlin included – had given him credit for. Feasibly, without his father's unyielding, tyrannical influence the man was less against the sorcery which he had been brought up to hate. Or maybe he was too exhausted to care anymore, maybe he was just allowing things to happen around him because he knew there was no way he could stop them.

There was an awkward silence as Merlin tried to get over Arthur's surprising reaction and Arthur contemplated what he'd actually said.

In that time, without either of them realising, the wolf who had been coolly observing the conversing pair vanished and its place appeared an elderly man – more specifically Conrí. His familiar wispy white hair and rheumy blue eyes replaced silvery-grey fur and amber orbs. He cleared his throat loudly and the couple turned to stare at him with astonishment.

"Conrí!" Merlin exclaimed as Arthur ran a puzzled hand through his tousled blond locks and furrowed his brow.

"Good afternoon, dear boys," the hermit smiled toothily, "I hope you haven't felt my absence too much."

"Er…"

"Come, come, we will talk inside. I'm sure I have lots of explaining to do. Perhaps you have some things to share as well." Conrí looked pointedly at Merlin as he added the last part. The warlock gulped.

Once again, the foursome found themselves around the low wooden table which they had started out on the day before when they had eaten breakfast. This time there was nothing on the surface other than a cup of water for each person and a jug which was set in the centre. Arthur sat staring at his own cup with an intense expression on his face. Merlin watched him apprehensively.

Conrí sipped at his water and then placed it back on the table. He clapped his hands together suddenly. The manservant jumped in surprise and looked towards the elderly man. As he did so he could have sworn his eyes flashed amber but when he looked again they were normal. Every time Merlin looked at the hermit now he would be reminded of the magnificent wolf.

"I am a shape shifter. I have been all my life, ever since I was a small boy I could change form into a wolf. To begin with I found it very difficult to control and often wreaked havoc on the neighbourhood. Even as I learnt to manage myself and my wolfish characteristics I found that I was still despised by society, outcast and feared. When I said before that I was driven out for being abnormal, that was the reason. They knew I was, as you put it, a werewolf and didn't want to be around me. It is much easier to live alone with such a….gift."

"A gift?" Arthur blurted out incredulously, "How can you call it a gift? More like a curse."

"Arthur!" Merlin hissed, thumping his friend on the arm, bidding him to be quiet. His master offered him a disgruntled look but lapsed back into silence.

"Trust me, young Pendragon, what I live with is a gift and I wouldn't want to be any other way. I have never had human friends as good as the wolves in my pack. None ever even came close. I think I may be tempted to remain constantly in my animal form if it wasn't for Rain."

Arthur seemed stunned by Conrí's blunt admittance. Merlin, however, could understand. He could imagine how much Conri enjoyed the freedom of being a wild animal, how he would revel in the animal's natural speed and agility. As a wolf he would no longer be constrained to his failing, frail old man's body.

"And now I have told you," Conrí said, glancing surreptitiously at Merlin. "Is there anything you wish to share with me? You can ask me questions if you want."

Merlin took this as his cue.

"The Shadows…." He began, "They got trapped in the stones at the Giant's Ring. Well, one did. The rest escaped. I don't know how it got trapped but then when I fell down the hill there was this cave – a sort of temple – to the god Erebus. You know Erebus, the god of darkness and shadows?"

"Yes, I know Erebus," Conrí nodded, a slight smile gracing his cracked lips.

"Anyway, there were these pictures on the wall. They showed a….man and he was imprisoning the Shadows in the stones in the circle. There were thirty stones and thirty Shadows. It all fits."

"And how exactly is this man supposed to trap magical beings in stones? They don't exactly have doors in rocks do they?" Arthur interjected, cynically.

"He was a sorcerer of course," Merlin stated, boldly, "He used magic to entrap the Shadows."

"Oh."

Conrí was watching the young warlock with a pleased expression on his lined features. He could see that Merlin knew what needed to be done but he didn't know if he had the courage and strength to carry it out. Maybe he needed some encouragement. He needed to understand that he was an extraordinarily powerful boy. To do that, the hermit knew he needed the Prince on his side.

"Well, where are we going to get a sorcerer from if you say that Conrí here is not one? I mean, they don't just grow on trees do they? It's not like, say you, suddenly pop up and say 'Hey, its all right, I'm a sorcerer, I can sort this mess out'," Arthur said bitterly. "Life's just not that bloody simple."

Merlin opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish.

**Lol. **


	15. Sorcerer

**Author's Note - Much shorter chapter. Sorry for drawing it out. Review!**

Merlin knew exactly what he needed to say. He knew he needed to tell Arthur that he was a sorcerer and that he could trap the Shadows in their rocks and save the kingdom. Wasn't that what the Prince wanted? That's why he was so eager to find a sorcerer; if he didn't want to find one then he wouldn't be complaining about their being none. However, a little niggling voice at the back of the boy's mind reminded him that Arthur may want to find a sorcerer but did he really want his _servant _turning out to be one? Not only would Merlin being admitting to his powers in front of the Crown Prince of Camelot but he would be revealing the fact he had hidden his indecent little secret all this time. He had been misleading his friend.

Cowardice and fear prevented the warlock from opening his mouth. His lips would just not cooperate and he couldn't really blame them. It wasn't as if he wanted to die.

Arthur was looking at him strangely, obviously perturbed by his manservant's odd expression. He seemed to be waiting for Merlin to say something. Conrí was also looking at him expectantly, a mischievous smile playing across his wrinkled face.

"No," Merlin finally blurted out, "Life's just not that simple."

He had blown it. He had been presented with the perfect opportunity to admit his true identity and save Albion at the same time - just when Arthur needed his skills and gifts the most. But he had chickened out and for that he hated himself.

"Thanks for that inane repetition," Arthur stated dryly, "It really helped the situation."

Merlin felt his cheeks heat up and he was sure they must be crimson because Conrí was glaring at him with a disappointed look on his face. The hairs on the nape of his neck prickled uncomfortably. What made the circumstances worse was that Rain was also staring at him sorrowfully; her huge brown eyes pools of discontent.

Arthur remained oblivious. Like he always did.

"I think that you both need to think about this," Conrí stated, firmly, "Perhaps you should consider the fact that the Shadows have left Ireland and therefore they are not close enough for _anyone _to entrap them in the Giant's Ring. Here I am assuming that you need to be within a certain distance of the standing stones to capture them."

"That's awkward," Arthur nodded, "Does that mean we need to lure them back over here? And if it does then how on earth do we go about that? They aren't just going to walk….or fly willingly to their deaths."

"They will not return to Ireland."

"They won't?" The Prince frowned, surprised by the hermit's assumption.

"No," Conrí said but did not elaborate leaving Arthur floundering as he tried to think of another solution to the enormous problem.

"So does that mean that we need to take the stones to _them_? Back to England," Merlin interrupted, his dark eyebrows furrowed.

Conrí nodded. "I think that would be a good idea." Obviously he had been angling for the two boys to reach that conclusion, like a teacher coaxing the correct answer out of a particularly slow student.

Arthur snorted, "And how do you propose to do that? Lift them? I may be strong but even I could never pick up a rock that huge, let alone thirty of them. And then you have to get them over the sea! It's impossible."

"Yes, certainly it seems impossible," Conrí agreed, "Though that is using brute force."

"Are you saying that we need to get this hypothetical sorcerer to lift all these stones back to England as well? That's asking a lot. I mean why on earth would this magician willingly help us? I'm sure he would ask for a payment of some sort and I have nothing to give him and we don't have time to go back to the castle to ask for gold. Besides, I am practically certain that my father would never give me anything if he knew I was going to be dealing with a sorcerer. I'm not even sure about it myself." The golden headed man shook his head doubtfully. "Can magic even carry stones anyway? It doesn't seem like something you would use spells for….but then what do I know?"

"A warlock can do anything he wants," Merlin said with his mind elsewhere as he spoke, "As long as he has the right enchantment."

"Once again, your knowledge of sorcery amazes me, Merlin," Arthur commented. He had meant it teasingly but the manservant seemed to take it to heart as his eyes widened fearfully. "I'm guessing you learnt the majority of it from Will," he added to clarify things.

"From Will?" Merlin looked confused. His master's comment had completely thrown him.

"Your friend Will, the sorcerer," Arthur said slowly. "It's a shame he's not alive now, we could've used his help."

"Well, even if he hadn't been stabbed you would've killed him before he'd even had a chance to defend himself and his actions." The raven haired youth blurted out suddenly.

"I may have," Arthur retorted just as vehemently, "But don't be so quick to judge, Merlin, you should know me better than that."

Merlin's mind reeled. What the hell had that meant? Had Arthur really just admitted that maybe he wouldn't have killed Will because he was a sorcerer? Even if it went against everything he had always been taught and believed. Even if by allowing the boy to live the Prince was, in essence, defying his father's rule. The youth found all this almost inconceivable, had someone abducted the real Arthur and replaced him with an imposter?

And Merlin actually felt absurdly guilty because yes, he had been quick to make assumptions about what would have been Arthur's decision that day had Will lived. He had always believed that Arthur would kill his best friend without question, even though the village boy had saved his life. Up until this point the warlock had determined upon the fact that had it been him, Merlin, then the situation wouldn't have been any different; he wouldn't have bet on his survival.

However, now all those beliefs and ideas had been turned on their head. He didn't feel quite so unsure of Arthur's intentions and opinions. Nevertheless, he still wasn't _certain_. He would only believe the Prince wouldn't turn him in and execute him if he said it out loud to Merlin's face.

"I wasn't quick to judge," Merlin began.

"You just thought I would've killed him," Arthur concluded. "He saved my life, Merlin, doesn't that count for anything?"

"I wasn't sure."

"Well, going by your black and white rules then I should have executed you as well."

"What? Why?"

"You were associated with a sorcerer. You knew that he could do magic all along, ever since you were a child. Therefore you are guilty as an accomplice."

"But you didn't arrest me?" Merlin spoke with surprised tones.

"Isn't that obvious?" Arthur replied.

A small smile crept onto the manservant's pale face and Arthur grinned himself. The young man looked better than he had since his fall; life had flooded back into him, brightening his eyes.

"So the stones…." Conrí intervened.

"Need a sorcerer to lift them," Arthur completed. "Short of a war with the Irish to get our army across here we haven't got enough manpower to carry them manually. We rely entirely on a Good Samaritan with a generous will. A Good Samaritan who is a sorcerer. Now there's a sentence I'd never though I'd say."

Merlin looked between the two of them and then glanced at Rain who offered him an encouraging nod. He knew what he needed to do and it was time to reveal his secret once and for all. His destiny had reached a peak and he was required to be strong enough to go over the top and face whatever the world had in store.

"I think I know someone who could help."

Arthur looked positively astounded. His eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"You do? Merlin, how many more sorcerers are you hiding away? I never knew you to be so well connected, albeit on the wrong side of the tracks. Where can we find him…or her?"


	16. Stunned

**Wow. Thank you so much guys for the response. I know Arthur was being a bit dumb and slow but really he would _never _have suspected Merlin of being a warlock so, despite all the hints, he probably wouldn't have made the link. Finally, I am giving you the reveal.....**

"_He's_…standing right in front of you."

There was silence. Merlin felt like he was suffocating; he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. His cheeks were burning; they had to be a violent red by now, and his heart slammed against his ribs. Everything seemed to be happening ever so slowly. He was sure he was deaf because still no one had spoken. Arthur hadn't exploded.

He stared at his feet, fear and desperation overwhelming him. Nothing could make him look into his master's face at this moment in time. Merlin knew he wouldn't like what he saw there.

There was _still _silence.

Merlin's ears were hot and he wanted to faint. But why wasn't Arthur speaking? Why wasn't he dead? Was the Prince too stunned and horrified for words? Curiosity welled up inside the warlock and he found that he needed to look up; he physically _had _to. There was no way he could stand the tension anymore.

Apprehensively, the boy lifted his eyes from the rocky ground and braced himself as he looked at his master and friend. Arthur gazed back at him, a confused expression contorting his features. His lips were twisted into a half-frown. It was obvious to Merlin that the Prince could not fathom what he had just been told; despite everything that had been said.

"Arthur…" Merlin began, cursing himself for having to repeat what he had just said, "You do understand what I said, right?"

As he spoke, the raven-headed youth glanced over at Conrí who offered him a reassuring smile. There was a knowing twinkle in his eyes. Merlin was not comforted.

"I…." Arthur started and then stopped, his face distorting into bewilderment again. Finally he formed the words he needed to. "I don't think I do…y-you-you're, trying to tell me that you are a sorcerer?"

"Yes."

"Don't be an _idiot_."

"Arthur, I'm not being an idiot," Merlin retorted, incredulously.

"Yes, you are. You shouldn't say such stupid things. They could get you killed."

"_Arthur_! I _am_ a warlock."

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am."

"You're not."

"I _am_!" Merlin replied, in disbelief. He could not actually believe that he and Arthur were having an argument about whether he was a sorcerer. It was ludicrous. He had just _told _the Prince that he was a warlock and now he was being told he wasn't. One would have thought that one knew whether they were a magician or not.

The youth was suddenly filled with defiance and, strangely, anger. Why was Arthur making this more difficult than it already was? His face hardened with sincerity and he crossed his arms – a trait usually associated with the Prince stood before him. Somehow he felt stronger.

Then…

"Truthfully?" Arthur's voice was suddenly very quiet and unsure, his sky-blue eyes filled with doubt.

"Truthfully." Merlin nodded.

"But how? When? You can't…Why? _How_?" The words ran together in a garbled row; yet the manservant understood the gist.

"I've always been like this, Arthur, all the time you've known me. It's who I am. I never told you because….well….you know…." Merlin murmured.

"But _why _would you choose to be a magician? For what purpose? To overthrow my father?" His voice was uncertain and tinged with fury.

"Of course not. We aren't all out to hurt people and gain power. I was _born _this way, Arthur. Ever since I was small I could move objects with my mind."

Arthur was staring now, with his eyes ridiculously wide and a muscle jumping erratically in his jaw. He could not believe what he was hearing; it was impossible. His clumsy, loyal servant could not be a _sorcerer_. He couldn't be the thing that his father despised most in the world. Merlin didn't have it in him to do magic. Besides, how could he have hidden it from him all this time? How could Arthur not have noticed a sorcerer who was working right under his nose?!

And yet the Prince found himself believing the manservant. He was being so genuine and open. There was no trace of dishonesty in those sharp, blue orbs. Somehow, Arthur knew that the serving boy was not lying.

Merlin was his trusted manservant…and the man who had saved his life several times. The Prince really shouldn't forget that. Despite what he seemed to be, the boy was a good friend.

Therefore, shouldn't this discovery not matter to him?

It was hard to think that way though, with Uther's voice in his head; his father's rules governed his life and always had. It was hard to break them even now, in a foreign country with his best friend claiming to be the man who could solve all their problems. Arthur wasn't one to ignore the law.

Still, looking at his severely battered, pale and exhausted companion, the Prince was wavering on his opinions. Merlin was no killer, he knew that. And Uther wasn't here…

"Arthur? Please say something," the manservant's tense voice broke his thoughts. Shaking his head, the golden haired youth glanced up. Merlin stared back at him with worried eyes, rimmed with purple circles.

"Merlin…." Arthur paused, "Um….well, what do you want me to say?"

That threw the warlock. A mystified expression worked its way across his bruised face. What did the Prince mean? Why wasn't he reacting like Merlin had expected him too? He was so quiet and reserved; befuddled.

"What do _I _want you to say?"

"Well, yes….do you want me to say that what you are is illegal and that I should kill you on the spot?" Merlin looked terrified. "Or do you want me to disobey my father?"

"I think that question has an obvious answer."

"That's what I thought."

"I-what? Does that mean…?"

"That means that right now I can't _really _process what you're telling me and we're in a pretty big dilemma as it is. _You _are the answer to all our troubles; much as I am shocked to say it. Therefore, for the good of Camelot, I am going to let you live for now. After we have defeated the Shadows….then I will reconsider the matter."

Merlin swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat with difficulty. He had been given a chance; a chance to prove to Arthur that he was a good man and a loyal servant whilst also being a powerful sorcerer. Whilst he was disappointed that the young man had not immediately trusted him and spared him from death, he understood that the decision was far from easy and that Arthur was giving him a lease of life so to speak; an opportunity. He could not mess it up.

Nodding slowly, the warlock seemed to agree with Arthur's verdict.

"Well…um….I guess we've found our warlock."

**A bit of an anti-climax I suppose. Sorry. I was really struggling as to how Arthur would react. And therefore I kind of postponed the decision....oops.**


	17. Surprising

**Author's Note - Thank you very much for the great reviews. I love the fact that you all react so quickly, it makes me so happy and I jump around a bit. :) You can imagine that. :D **

**I'm also glad that you liked Arthur's reaction. I will need your opinion in this chapter too. I'm really annoyed though because I described Merlin's magic in great detail and then I realised that really I should have left such a magnificent enchantment for when he traps the Shadows (that and Arthur's reaction). Ah well, I couldn't be bothered to save it and rewrite the chapter so I will just have to make the next part where he uses magic even better. You have been forewarned. And sort of spoilt....oops! **

Arthur watched the climbing form in front of him. His eyes roamed the thin back of his companion and the shoulder blades that jutted sharply out of his shirt, moving alternately as he ascended. The young man's long legs covered the uneven ground with a strangely gentle grace, stretching to reach the higher rocks which lined the path. Despite the seeming smoothness, Arthur couldn't help notice the almost imperceptible limp that disrupted the boy's gait. He felt a twinge of guilt for he was fairly certain he had caused the injury. However, he was impressed by his friend's stoicism; the man hadn't said a word or complained ever.

Perhaps that was something to do with the fact he was a warlock. Maybe pain didn't affect him as much as a normal person; he could have a higher pain threshold. Though as he thought that, the young Prince realised how ridiculous that sounded. Merlin may be a wizard but that didn't make him exempt from hurt – for instance, Arthur recalled when the manservant nearly died after being poisoned. He'd felt that. Arthur doubted he was invincible. He contemplated asking but wasn't sure how to word the question, eventually he just decided to leave it.

They were heading back to the Giant's Ring. That seemed the logical place to go, now so much had been discovered and they had the resources to continue on the next step of their mission. The plan was that Merlin would use whatever 'powers' he had to move the stones. In all honesty, Arthur was sceptical of just how much magic the warlock could do. Did he really have the strength and supernatural skill to lift several tons of rock across hundreds of miles? Somehow, Arthur doubted it. All the same, he had to hope otherwise everything would be in vain and Camelot would fall.

Whilst they climbed, Arthur had had a lot of time to think about what he thought about Merlin and his magic. However, once again, he was finding it hard to believe the skinny, nondescript youth could have an enchanted bone in his body. That just wasn't _Merlin_. Well, not the Merlin he thought he had known anyway. But then what _did _he know? Everything he had once believed had been turned on its head by the revelation that his manservant had made earlier. Could he trust anything that Merlin told him anymore; that was the question.

Some shingles scattered beneath his feet and the Prince adjusted his balance accordingly, making sure that he didn't slip over and plunge back down the mountainside; much like Merlin had before. Glancing over his shoulder, Arthur breathed in deeply, and surveyed the huge valley below him: the carpet of pointed, emerald fir trees, the winding, dark river that twisted through the ravine and the herd of wild horses that grazed on a plain of grass, sprinkled among the untamed flowers. Ireland was beautiful but he really just wanted to go home.

Up ahead he heard Merlin draw to a halt and he realised that they had reached the summit. The plateau stretched out before the two young men once more. The stones stood, unchanged, in their unnatural formation. They really were like giants; guards of another realm.

Arthur watched as his companion strode forward, heading straight for the large archway, his face set with a determined expression. The Prince registered how tempestuous his eyes were: blue, black and grey, like a swirling storm. Merlin was really different all of a sudden and Arthur had his first glimpse of his manservant's awesome power.

Following silently, the golden haired man also walked towards the ring of towering rocks. He tried to ignore the sound of crows cawing in the sky as they circled above but he couldn't help but feel that was an ominous sign; an uneasy sensation crept over him. Reaching for his belt, the knight found that his sword was still absent. He would have to rely on Merlin for this.

Once more, the warlock had stopped and he stood, swaying slightly, in the centre of the stone loop. Arthur wasn't sure whether he was swaying because of exhaustion or whether that was part of the magic. If he was gambling, then the Prince would've bet on the former option – Merlin _really _didn't look great. His head was hung low as he faced the ground and his arms dropped limply by his sides. Arthur waited tensely.

And then suddenly the raven head snapped up and a pair of shocking blue eyes speared the Prince's own – he felt pinioned by such an intense gaze, there was no way he could look away. He stared back, his jaw slightly slack. Merlin lifted his hands slowly until they had risen above his head, extended into the air. Still the crows cackled.

Merlin looked terrifically powerful, he looked undefeatable; there was some overwhelming sense of supremacy about his form. No longer did he look like an underfed village boy, he was Merlin the Warlock and Arthur couldn't believe he'd ever doubted that. The servant oozed magic from his very pores.

His eyes flashed and unexpectedly they were a glimmering, blinding golden – like two suns blazing in his face. Arthur was truly enraptured. Looking back he would never admit it but in the moment all he could see was Merlin.

Finally, as if sensing something great was happening, the crows had fallen quiet. The whole world seemed soundless. There was just Merlin standing in his ring of stone, arms high and eyes shining.

Then there was a tremendous, earth shuddering, ear-splitting noise as if the entire ground was being torn apart. Technically it was. The grass was ripped up as the stones, which had been embedded in the soil like the giant jagged teeth of the planet for hundreds of years, were plucked from their foundations. Thirty blocks of rock rose into the air and hung, suspended impossibly.

Managing to pull his eyes away from the flying Giant's Ring, Arthur saw a small smile graced Merlin's pale features. He was enjoying this. And who wouldn't? There must be so much _power _flowing through his veins. The Prince had never seen a real sorcerer at work, he had witnessed their trickery and sly manipulations but never before had he seen such raw magic. It was breath-taking.

Before he knew it, it was over.

The rocks vanished and the two boys were left standing on an empty hill, still watching one another.

Surprisingly, Arthur was the first one to find his tongue. "Where did they go?"

"To England of course," Merlin replied, dropping his arms, feeling rather foolish now.

"But….what _was _that?"

"That was magic, Arthur. Proper magic. Though on a rather large scale." The boy scratched his head, nervous as to the reaction of his master. He was finding it hard to interpret his facial expressions.

A pregnant pause. "Well, it was….impressive," Arthur admitted, finally. He was truly seeing Merlin in a new light; his opinion of the manservant had shifted so dramatically and erratically in the last few hours that he was having difficulty knowing exactly where his head was at.

"Er…thank you, I guess. But if you think that was impressive then you should wait until I actually have to do real magic."

"What do you mean _real _magic?" Arthur asked, perplexed.

"That was nothing really; I didn't have to put a lot of effort in. As I've said, I have moved objects since I was tiny. That was just a bit heavier and farther than I usually move them."

The Prince spluttered with astonishment.

"Real magic is the magic where spells have to be recited and a _lot _of power is needed."

"That seemed pretty real to me."

"Yeah…well…" Merlin shrugged, blushing, "It was literally nothing."

The warlock was rather surprised by his master's reaction. He had expected Arthur to loathe the use of his magic and only accept it because he had to, because he needed it. Furthermore, he had really expected the Prince to only tolerate his sorcery if he eventually let him live, not champion it, but by the sounds of things Arthur was rather amazed. His sapphire eyes were lit with awe and excitement – also a new found respect. Merlin felt a sense of pride well inside him. For once he wasn't the lowly servant; his master was treating him as an equal.

"So…this _real _magic. You think trapping the Shadows will be that. How will you know the spell?" Arthur queried, curiously.

Merlin looked momentarily worried but then he grinned. "I will, trust me."

"You better hope you do, otherwise we're in trouble."

The Prince reached the younger man and clapped him in a friendly way on the back – things were finally falling into place, he could feel it. His qualms were dissipating before his eyes. He almost felt back to normal in Merlin's company; despite what he had just witnessed, the manservant was still the same boy – just maybe a tad stronger.

In fact, a _lot _of things were falling into place. Things that in the past Arthur had just passed off as strange happenings but of little consequence considering he couldn't explain them. But now they made more sense. Merlin had plenty of explaining to do: like how that blue orb had appeared when Arthur needed it most and who had made those snakes come out of the shield.

Glancing knowingly at his black-haired friend, Arthur was pleased that he had finally been told the secret. This was definitely for the better and whatever happened, Merlin had him onside.

"So, I don't suppose you could transport us two over to England with those stones? I don't really fancy sailing in another boat. The sickness would actually kill me. It couldn't be too difficult; I mean we hardly weigh as much as the rocks," Arthur suggested with a smirk. Merlin looked back at him with an amused smile playing across his lips.

It was then that the wolf howled.

**That finish was for Morena Evensong because she said she liked my chapter endings. There's another cliffhanger for you. And sorry to everyone else for keeping you in suspense! :D Review!**


	18. Seamus

**Super-duper quick update. I'm quite pleased with this chapter. For once, I didn't suffer with writer's block at all during writing it. Everything just seemed to flow nicely.**

**It was quite amusing for me at the end because I was thinking 'Shall I leave it here?' and then I was thinking, 'No, that's too obvious and kind of mean...What about here...no' And I kept writing to please you guys and not leave it too tense. However, I do like where I have ended it actually and its a kind of cliffie. :) Its kind of subtly dramatic.**

**Thanks for the reviews, btw!**

**I'm so happy as I finally have my brace off! YAY! And I'm going skiing on Friday! Nothing can dampen my mood. Well, except perhaps the fact I have ICT courswork deadline tomorrow. Argh! **

**Oh, and apologies for the name but I just _had _to call him Seamus. Its Irish tradition!**

Seamus had seen the stones; they were kind of hard to miss. They had floated across the sky like some absurdly huge leaves caught in the wind. He had been feeding the pigs when he'd caught sight of them, his eyes had widened with astonishment. It wasn't really something you saw everyday. At the time, it took him a moment to realise where the rocks had come from but then he recognised them as the standing stones that usually stood in a ring on Mount Killaraus. They were sacred to the people of Ireland and he had wondered initially whether this was some kind of incredible happening, perhaps caused by the gods. However, when he saw the expressions of shock and rage on the adults around him, he realised that they weren't meant to be flying out of the country.

Immediately the villagers had jerked into action, collecting whatever weapons they could find in their houses and sheds. There was a range from glinting, silver swords, freshly made by the local blacksmith, to a chair leg with a kitchen knife lashed onto the end – a makeshift spear. The men of the village were ready for battle, thirst for blood in their eyes. Seamus was surprised by their eagerness considering the massacre which had happened just the night before. No one knew what had quite happened but, judging by a survivor's tale, they had been mauled by a vicious pack of wolves. Seamus had to admit he was amazed by their insistence that it was the creatures of the forest that had attacked them because he had always thought of the wolves as gentle animals who kept themselves to themselves. He'd rarely heard of them killing humans, not in his life time anyway.

Even so, the men seemed to have forgotten the tragedy already and were geared up for another fight. Seamus wasn't quite sure who with but he supposed it was with whoever was moving the stones from the mountain. The villagers would do anything for those hunks of rock.

As he watched an elderly man brandishing a pitch fork with unexpected ferocity and strength, his wild, white hair flowing out behind him, as he chased after the main bulk of men, Seamus realised that perhaps he too should be setting out to see off these thieves. His father would, no doubt, be among them and he would be ashamed of his son should he not join the defence. Nevertheless, the boy was reluctant to join the charge because he was not that skilled with a sword and he didn't relish the thought of killing people – no matter what they had stolen.

Maybe he could hang behind and if they needed help then he could go but if not then he could remain here, in the village, in relative safety. It was as that he was deciding on this option that his best friend appeared, leaping over a low wooden fence and charging towards him. There was a large, excited grin on his face.

"Seamus, what you stan'ing there for? We got t'go. C'mon. Your pa and my pa are already there. A couple of feckin' English think they can steal our sacr'd stones. They got another thing comin'."

In his hand, the flame-haired youth held a thick bladed sword that looked too heavy for him to actually wield correctly and on his chest hung a hurriedly slung on, and rather tatty, chain mail piece. Seamus pondered where he had found such things but then Brandon did have a knack for finding objects that may or may not be his. Observing his friend with cool, blue eyes, the young man realised that he had to go, otherwise he would risk being called a coward for the rest of his life.

The two of them struck out together, one sword and a wood chopping axe between them. They followed the trail of men up the mountain towards the summit where they expected to find the criminals. Seamus didn't know whether to feel petrified or excited – his veins were pumped with adrenaline.

As the pair crossed a particularly rocky piece of terrain in order to reach the next part of the path up Mount Killaraus, Seamus caught sight of something in his peripherals. Throwing a glance to his left, the boy spotted a dark, grey silhouette – stark against the pale blue sky. A pointed snout was lifted into the air as the wolf howled. The Irish youth felt his blood run cold.

* * *

Conrí was in wolf form. It was uncommon for him to take such a shape during the day but desperate times called for desperate measures. This was an emergency. In fact, it was so much of a crisis that he had even resorted to leaving Rain alone in the cave because he thought it too dangerous for her to venture out as well. He had strictly ordered her to remain there until he came back.

It was as he was collecting some burdock leaves for supper and checking his hare traps for fresh kills when he heard the yells. They were the angry shouts of men and immediately the old hermit realised why they were raging: Arthur and Merlin. As he looked to the sky, he had never doubted that he wouldn't see thirty dark shapes bobbing leisurely across the clouds and he was not disappointed.

Instantly he knew that he had to act and that was when he leapt into his wolf state, transforming as he broke into a loping run. He had to warn them before it was too late.

As he ran, he flew across the ground, his padded paws silent on the uneven, rock-strewn earth. The steep hills and rough ground did not bother him because he was a wolf and he was free to run – all the land felt the same to him, his body adjusted to changes of gradient. To go from a frail old man to a fast, lithe wolf was an exhilarating transformation, one that Conrí loved.

Nearing Mount Killaraus, his sensitive nose caught the smell of something on the wind….bloodlust. It was unmistakable and terrible. His ears pricked when he heard the ferocious screams and baying of the men. Not only were they protecting their land but they were seeking revenge for the deaths of comrades; a lethal combination. Even as a wolf he knew that pack-love was the strongest love there was. Immediately, his sharp amber eyes detected the shapes of humans, charging up the hill – in their hands they held an assortment of deadly weapons. A whine escaped from his jaws.

He had to do something else, he would never get there on time, he may be swift and agile but the men had been much closer and they were practically at the peak. If he didn't do something now then Arthur and Merlin would be overwhelmed and killed before they knew it.

Skittering to an undignified stop, Conrí raised his wolf head to the heavens and howled. The sound tore from his throat, piercing the clouds with its volume as it echoed across the land, reverberating off every tree, plant and rock. He put his very soul into it, in the hope that the warlock and the prince would hear his warning. Eventually he had to stop and he lowered his silver head and found himself face to face with a boy who was staring at him with a look of shock and fear. Conrí felt his lips curl back over his pointed teeth instinctively and his fur prickled on his back.

The boy continued to stare, he seemed frozen to the spot with fright.

And then another youth appeared with his red hair wild and untamed, bouncing about his head like a fiery crown. Conrí blinked apprehensively; he was armed with a large sword and there was a determined glint in his eyes. He wanted to kill him, he could sense it. There was a part of Conrí that wanted to kill him back, the wolf side whose only instinct was defence – kill or be killed – but that was the uncultivated animal and not him. Inside him the elderly man fought against the wolf nature and won…for now.

Offering the approaching young man a calm look, the unruffled silver-haired wolf turned round and loped away up the mountainside. The human could only look on angrily.

* * *

Merlin had heard the howl and he knew that he needed to heed to its meaning, and from what he could decipher, he guessed that the howl was a warning against danger. He knew that it _could _just be a normal wolf calling for a mate but somehow he could just sense that it was Conrí and that his howl was very important.

Without waiting to see if he himself could spot the threat, the manservant grabbed his master's sleeve and pulled him towards the other side of the cliff that they'd come up. The problem with him having sent the stones away was that now they had nowhere to hide, the plateau was empty and open to attack. That's what Merlin was sure was happening now, he could have sworn he heard some yells from further down the hillside. They needed to get away immediately.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur asked, annoyed, plucking his shirt from the younger boy's grip. He shot the warlock a mystified look.

"There's someone coming," Merlin hissed.

"What do you mean there's someone coming? Who?"

"I don't know but it can't be good. Didn't you hear that wolf howl? That was Conrí, he was warning us."

As he spoke, the young man had once more grabbed Arthur and was still dragging his friend to the furthest edge of the plateau, hoping to put as much distance between them and the oncoming hoards as possible. They reached the boundary and Merlin looked back over his shoulder only to see a sheer drop behind him; he hadn't realised that there wouldn't be a slope on the other side. That was unfortunate; being able to escape was kind of an important part of his plan.

"Warning us about what?"

"God, you're so slow sometimes, Arthur. I just flew thirty rocks across the sky and the villagers have already expressed their great dislike for us and our presence. Now we're stealing from them; remember what Conrí said. He knew this would happen. We're taking what belongs to them."

"For the good of Albion."

"Perhaps, but they won't see it that way. They're coming to get us."

"Well, why don't you use some of your…_magic _to get us out of this mess then?"

"It's not that simple. I…." Merlin began.

"What's not simple?! Merlin, you moved rock, why not us?"

"Well, if I drop a rock it will break. If I drop us, we'll die…most likely smashing every bone in our bodies and cracking our skulls open like split eggs in the process."

"Nice description," the Prince muttered, darkly.

"You get the picture?"

"But is that not a risk you're willing to take...?"

As Arthur started his sentence, two dozen men spewed over the edge and onto the plateau. Spotting the two boys, they surged forwards. Merlin gulped.

"The wolves?" Arthur asked, hopefully.

"Won't get here in time," the warlock replied, matter-of-factly. His raven locks twisted in tendrils round his face as the breeze upped several notches; his cerulean eyes were as hard and cold as ice.

"Well then use your damn magic, Merlin!" the Prince stated, "And that's an order!"

With that statement, the golden haired youth gripped his friend's tattered blue shirt and launched the two of them off the cliff. Merlin let out a strangled cry of surprise and his eyes flashed gold.

**Aw...I just like the trust Arthur put in Merlin there....and I wrote it, lol. I'm proud of myself for that titbit of friendship. Never thought I'd see the day Arthur ordered Merlin to do magic either. Whoop! Review!**


	19. Suspended

**AN- I will try and update once more but then I am going skiing so will be away for a week! That's why I'm giving you so many chapters. Thanks for the reviews!**

**Oh, and Morena Evensong, I have decided to use your idea in the next chapter. It just didnt fit in this one.**

They were plummeting through space. The wind whipped swiftly by and so did the world; a blur of colours. Their stomachs churned unpleasantly, attempting to adjust to the change in weight and the sudden lightness. Together they clung, their bodies arching in the air as the ground drew closer and closer. All Arthur could hear was a whistling in his ears and his eyes were full of his imminent death.

And then they stopped.

They were suspended midair like some strange creature pickled in a medicine jar. The Prince found that he was still grasping his friend's wrist in a vice-like grip which would no doubt leave marks for some time afterwards. He wasn't really thinking about that now though. Arthur was too busy looking down at the ground several hundred metres below with its unwelcoming, jagged, black rocks waiting to give them a grisly death. His heart lurched horribly in his chest and he desperately wanted to be sick. This shouldn't be happening. They should be dead.

Managing to tear his shocked gaze away from the earth below, the young Prince looked into the topaz eyes of his companion. The gold wasn't quite as bright as before, not blinding, but Arthur was still intimidated by it. Merlin's eyes were meant to be bright blue, not a glimmering golden. Though thank goodness they were otherwise the pair would have perished.

There was an unreadable expression on the raven-haired boy's face. His high cheek bones shone in the afternoon sun and his lips were tight. Arthur was apprehensive. He had no way of knowing what the young man would say considering he had just technically thrown them both off a cliff. He waited tensely, still very much aware of his floating predicament. Perhaps Merlin couldn't speak whilst he did magic, maybe he would have to wait until they landed for a reaction.

Overhead two eagles soared, their broad wings spread wide and their eyes scanning the region for anything interesting – a hint of prey, possibly. Their large beaks opened and closed as they made strange noises to one another, as if communicating. Pale white underbellies glowed in the light whilst darker, tawny feathers glinted orange in the sun. They practically glittered. Fortunately the regal birds paid no attention to the pair of humans hanging below them; they acted as if it was an everyday occurrence.

"I didn't know you had so much faith in me." A quiet but amused tone came from the warlock next to him. Arthur jumped, which was quite a scary thing whilst suspended in the air.

"I…." he stammered, looking uneasy, "Hoped that I was right to trust you."

"And you were. I think you have more confidence in me than I do," Merlin murmured, humourlessly. His face was sad now.

"Why shouldn't you have confidence in yourself, Merlin?" Arthur frowned, his brow creasing.

"I don't know…I've never really had a chance to test my powers that often, what with it being illegal and punishable by execution and all. Therefore, I'm never sure whether I'm strong enough or skilled enough to do certain spells. It scares me sometimes. What if it goes wrong?"

"You know, as much as I am enjoying having this little heart to heart with you, Merlin…we are kind of floating a few hundred feet above deadly rocks and I was wondering, perhaps we could land and _then_ talk some more? I'd feel a bit more comfortable." The Prince glanced down again and instantly regretted it. He had sympathy for the young repressed warlock but now was really not the time to express it.

"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry." Merlin looked apologetic and glanced away, embarrassedly.

They began to descend. It was strange at first and Arthur didn't like it at all but then he began to familiarise with the feeling. It wasn't so bad, not once you acclimatised to the nauseous sensation in your stomach. He felt feather-light. All the time he marvelled at Merlin's power, he truly couldn't believe it.

After a moment they hit solid ground and Arthur felt his knees give way as he halted and he tumbled sideways, falling in the soft meadow which Merlin had landed them in. A blade of grass tickled his nostril as he lay, trying to catch his breath and slow his racing heart. Adrenaline still coursed through his body; he guessed it was an aftershock from the plunge.

Sitting up gradually and looking about him, Arthur realised that they were only a few metres away from the rocks that could so easily have caused their death. Fortunately, the manservant had brought them to rest in a safe and comfortable green pasture. A little way away he could see a line of bushy trees that led into the darkness of the forestland. As he watched, he could have sworn he saw the speckled rump of a roe deer turn tail and vanish into the dense foliage. Sadly, he didn't have his sword or his bow so there was no chance of him leaping after it and catching it for their supper.

Throwing a glance at Merlin, he saw that the younger man had also sat up and had wrapped his arms round his knees, his back curved so that his shoulders seemed to be up around his abnormally large ears. His skin was still extremely pale in the fast fading sunlight; he looked washed out. A dark brown smudge on his cheek was a sharp contrast and initially Arthur thought it was merely dirt, then he realised it was actually a bruise. That served as a blunt reminder to what the youth had been through, Arthur was surprised he was still walking.

Silently, Merlin observed the woods in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. Arthur wondered whether he was supposed to break the reverie or not. However, he felt that interrupting his trance was necessary because he wanted to understand what the manservant had meant earlier. After all, he had said that he would continue the conversation down on earth.

"Um…Merlin….well, about what you said earlier….as you know I'm no expert in matters of magic but…." Arthur stopped abruptly, aware that his friend was not listening to a word he said as he had just leapt to his feet, his eyes fearful.

Arthur's mind instantly thought of the villagers. But they couldn't have found them, could they? Surely they would have seen them falling off a cliff and assumed they'd died. It seemed that was not the case though. Why couldn't they get peace just for a _moment_?!

All the Prince's thoughts happened in the few milliseconds before he too swivelled his head to where Merlin was staring. When he caught sight of the problem, his jaw dropped open and his heart faltered. _No…._

The whimper of an animal in pain was unmistakable.

A grey-black head bobbed irregularly in the waving tendrils of grass, orangey eyes dim and lifeless. Even from a distance, the two boys could see the wolf's heaving sides as it limped doggedly towards them. Merlin was already on the move, quickly closing the gap between them and rushing to the creature's aid. He crashed to the ground beside the beast and ran his slender hands through its thick, silvery fur. As Arthur too drew closer, he saw that the wolf's muzzle and jaws were damp with crimson blood. His eyes roamed the rest of the animal and spotted the wound that was causing the wolf to wobble unsteadily on his feet. A deep gash had slashed his pale grey underbelly.

Merlin had already inspected the creature from head to tail and was busy tending to his injury; his fingers were already slicked with blood.

"It's all right, Conrí, stay calm…Arthur, have you got….no, it doesn't matter…." The warlock tailed off and grabbed the hem of his shirt, tearing it over his head. His shock of black hair was left in disarray but he really found it hard to care as he began to rip up the material. The Prince looked on, astonished.

"What are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Merlin said through his teeth as he held one piece of material in his mouth and began attempting to wrap up the injury.

"Considering you spend your life with a physician, you are truly hopeless. That will never work. For one thing the wound is too deep – it needs stitches – and it's not even clean. If you leave it like that infection will set in and he'll die."

"Well, I don't see any needle and thread anywhere, do you? I'm doing my best with what I've got," Merlin snapped, "Since when did you become an expert anyway?"

"I've had enough war wounds to know what I'm talking about, Merlin," Arthur retorted.

"But this is a wolf."

"Well observed," the Prince replied, dryly, "That doesn't mean he doesn't bleed or can't die from infection. He's like a human, just with more hair."

"You do it then." Merlin sat back on his haunches and offered his friend an annoyed expression.

"Do I look like I have anything to deal with this either? I'm not a walking medical kit! We need to get him back to the cave. Maybe there he will change back into human form and he can tell us what to do."

"Why hasn't he transformed now? It would be so much easier."

"I'm guessing he has his reasons. Just hold on, Conrí, we'll look after you." Arthur was talking to the silver beast now, his face full of sincerity as the wolf stared back with pained, amber eyes.

Then the young man bent down and heaved the wolf up into his arms. The animal was heavy, there was no doubt about it, but he was manageable. Grunting with effort, Arthur began to walk. Conrí's wolf-form was warm against his broad chest, his fur brushed his chin.

"Firstly, the cave is that way," Merlin stated, catching up with his master, "And secondly, I can make that so much easier." As he spoke the wolf suddenly became much lighter in Arthur's arms and he unexpectedly began to lift out of his grasp. Soon the animal was floating a few feet off the ground, unsupported.

"I see you've got over your fears of flying living things then," the Prince commented mildly as the two of them broke into a hurried jog, side by side.

"I think you shocked it out of me."

"Face your fears," Arthur grinned, weakly, "That's what I always teach the knights of Camelot."

"I bet you don't throw them off mountains though, do you?"

**I suppose that's slightly lighthearted considering the gravity of the situation but imagine them doing it with hurried tones as they are running. Then it makes it less mean. So, review to see what happened to Conri and what _will _happen to him....**


	20. Sorrow

**Hello guys! Back from skiing. I didn't break any bones so that was good. :)**

**Thank you for all the reviews and the constructive comments. I will try and improve on them. Though no promises. :P **

**Chapter dedicated to Morena Evensong for her Uther idea!**

Uther was standing on the balcony, overlooking his kingdom. He enjoyed coming up here in order to see all that he was king to – as far as the eye could see, he ruled that. And he liked to think he ruled it well, he liked to think that his people loved him if not respected him, he liked to think that his son saw him as a good role model. However, he wasn't sure of any of those things. Not like he used to be; he used to know he was a good monarch and was confident of his abilities. These days, as he aged, he wasn't so certain. He needed reassurance and there was no one to give it; they believed him ruthless and unbreakable. But he was only human.

For instance, at this moment in time he feared for his land and his people, they were in serious jeopardy. Their survival rested on the shoulders of his young son and a band of knights. Compared to such powerful magic their plight seemed rather puny but he had to have faith. And he did have faith in Arthur….didn't he?

Crossing his arms over his chest, the man surveyed his courtyard that spanned out below him. The cobbled yard was littered with a variety of servants and soldiers, all hurrying to get their chores and jobs finished before the day finished. The sun was setting in the west, behind the large, blue-slate mountains and spilling a warm, orangey glow over their snowy peaks. Uther spotted one young stable lad standing stock-still, with a hay fork in hand, and soaking in the last dregs of sunlight on his upturned face. Bizarrely, the King envied his untroubled attitude; all he had to think about was looking after horses and nothing more. Life was simple for a servant.

As he flicked his gaze up to the sky, Uther did a double take.

To begin with he wasn't sure what exactly was floating leisurely through the air above Camelot. He knew they weren't birds but he didn't know what exactly they were, they just looked like plain blocks of rock. In fact….they _were _rocks. Uther's eyes widened in astonishment.

"What on earth?!" he muttered to himself. He had to blink several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. And yet the silhouettes remained there, moving steadily across the darkening sky.

It was impossible. Stones couldn't fly. It had to be sorcery. That was the conclusion that the King of Camelot immediately drew and, in all honesty, he wasn't wrong – for once. Spinning on the spot and sweeping his scarlet cloak out behind him, the man strode purposefully from his balcony and back into his chambers. Once inside he called immediately for his soldiers. They appeared at once.

"Men, there are…stones flying across Camelot," he began, aware of how ridiculous that sounded, "I want you to follow them and find where they are going. Whoever is levitating them…I want you to kill them."

The men looked perplexed. They had yet to view the flying stones but they would understand the King's strange words once they did. Several of them murmured, confusedly, between themselves, much to Uther's irritation.

"Take up arms and go. I will follow you soon. Tell a stable boy to saddle my horse," the King ordered and the soldiers hurried from the room as fast as their legs would carry them. Uther turned and picked his scabbard off a peg, he would face this sorcerer head on now that his son was absent.

* * *

The wolf lay on its side on a pile of rugs as its chest rose and fell erratically. Its amber eyes were half closed, resting because of exhaustion. A messy but adequate set of black stitches held the sliced skin together on the creature's belly. The stitches were made from finely cut animal sinews as they were tough and thin. An effort had been made to clean up the matted fur around the wound and there wasn't so much blood soaking its coat.

From its throat came almost imperceptible whimpering, this continued every few minutes. A small, pale hand stroked its soft head, whispering comforts in an arched ear.

Arthur and Merlin watched Conrí struggle for his life. They willed him to survive but without good medical knowledge all they could do was sew up the wound and hope. When they had arrived back at the cave, Rain had immediately leapt to help them and ushered them over to the old man's bed where Merlin laid the wolf. To begin with she had been busy but now that there was nothing more to do, she was quiet and subdued – keeping a constant vigil by Conrí's side.

Merlin watched as tears began dribbling down the little girl's face, wetting her cheeks so they shone in the candlelight. He felt terrible. He could sense the distress and fear emanating off the youngster. No child should have to lose their guardian, especially a child who was as unfortunate as Rain – having been abandoned at birth. The warlock couldn't imagine the heartbreak and grief Conrí's death would cause the girl. He just prayed that the old man was strong enough.

What he didn't understand though was the fact that the hermit had yet to change back into his human form. If he did that then things would be much easier. He could even tell Arthur and him what to do to save his life. Whilst he was in animal form they were utterly hopeless.

Merlin could tell, looking at his companion, that although Arthur was worried about Conrí and his condition, he was also anxious about the villagers and the Shadows. Should the villagers realise they were still alive then there would be big trouble as the first place they were sure to look was the cave. And with the Conrí being injured, they were completely vulnerable. They couldn't stand another attack. Not only that, but the Shadows were still free to run riot throughout the land and kill as many innocents as they pleased. Time was running out and they needed to get back to England as soon as possible.

Obviously they couldn't leave now though. Not in this predicament.

"Conrí," Arthur suddenly spoke to Merlin's left and he jumped, startled, "Conrí, you need to transform back into a human so you can tell us how we can help you. Without your knowledge then you might die. In fact…" The Prince looked closely at the still oozing wound, and then he said, bluntly. "…I have no doubt that you _will _die."

The warlock was astonished by his frankness but he supposed it was for the best. They couldn't sit around here waiting for Conrí to die.

The wolf curved its neck towards the golden haired man, its tawny eyes swimming with pain and misery. Then it looked down at the gash on its belly, nosing it gently with its snout. Finally, it turned to Merlin and the boy was shocked to see defeated look on its face. He was about to open his mouth and say something when he realised that Rain had stepped back from Conrí's side and the wolf was no longer a wolf but a human.

He shuffled back slightly, a little scared though he had no idea why. Perhaps it was because he wasn't used to seeing such things.

"Conrí!" Arthur said, relieved, "Tell us how we can help you."

"There is nothing you can do," the old man smiled, sadly.

Arthur frowned, confused, "What?"

"Dear boy, I am too far gone for you or _I _to do anything about it. My time is up."

"But…."

"But nothing, Arthur," Conrí interrupted, his voice strong for a moment, "I am going to die. It's the way of life."

"This wound isn't 'the way of life' though, is it? How did it happen?" Merlin asked, seriously.

"I came to warn you."

"We heard," the young man nodded, gratefully, "You probably saved our lives."

Conrí smiled, "I'm glad. Though after I howled, I continued up the mountain along with the villagers. I think they recognised me. Or maybe they were just so full of bloodlust they wanted to kill anything in sight. Anyway, one man attacked me with his pitchfork. I was too quick for him and managed to bite him. He gave up after that but his friends didn't. They all came at me and I wasn't fast enough; a youth slashed my stomach. I fled."

"I'll kill him," Arthur growled, his eyes hard like granite.

"I don't think you'll have to."

"Why?"

"My pack…" Conrí said, quietly. Just leaving the words hanging in the air, there was no need to elaborate.

"Is that when you found us?"

"Yes, I was so relieved you were alive…argh…" The old man stopped abruptly, his body creasing in agony. Both the prince and the manservant jumped to his aid but he batted them away, face tense with pain. "I'm running out of time."

"Are you _sure _there is nothing we can do?" Merlin asked, desperately. He had noticed the wound was seeping even more than before; once again the silvery fur was sticky.

"You can go back to Camelot. Defeat the Shadows. Then you can continue your destinies: it is up to you to unite the lands of Albion and rid the country of bad magic. I was just a piece of the path on the way – and I am glad to have been, you two will be great men."

"But…"

"No buts, young warlock, fate governs your course and you should not fight it."

Conrí's eyes were dulling. His face looked even paler and more wrinkled than normal and sweat dribbled down his brow. Occasionally his body would clench in pain and Merlin would feel awful for not being able to alleviate the agony.

"We won't," Arthur assured him.

"One thing though. I want you to promise me." Conrí looked intensely into his youthful face; the prince stared back, his expression fiercely serious.

"Of course. Name it, Conrí. We owe you so much and it is only right that we repay some of what we owe."

"You must take Rain with you. She is all alone now and I couldn't bear it if she was left parentless again."

Arthur nodded, slowly. He couldn't very well deny the last wish of a dying man could he? Besides, he wouldn't dream of abandoning the child.

"I promise you, we will take her and keep her safe."

"Good. That's all I needed to know," the old man smiled, weakly. "Now, I will transform."

Merlin and Arthur frowned, perplexed.

"I wish to die as a wolf. That is who I am. I want to be in my own body," Conrí stated in explanation, his eyes glassy and damp.

Suddenly, Rain threw herself roughly against the injured man and hugged him tightly, wrapping her small arms around his fragile form. She buried her face into his bare chest and whimpered quietly. Conrí looked down at her, his expression tender, as he ran a shaking, knobbly hand through her blonde hair. A single tear slithered down his weathered cheek.

"You'll be fine, little one," he whispered to her and she stepped backwards, face streaky and shiny, "You won't be alone, after all." He kissed her lightly on the forehead and then lay back on his blankets.

The transformation was almost instantaneous and, once again, a silver-wolf was spread prone on the bed. He offered one final look to the three humans standing in the cave with him; their faces identically anguished, and then closed his amber eyes for the last time. Rain let out an agonized cry and turned, fleeing out of the cave.

Both Merlin and Arthur stared at the wolf in a state of complete shock. They hadn't expected it to be so abrupt, so sudden. Usually 'passing' lasted longer. Then they realised that Conrí must have really been battling to hold on and say everything that he needed. He had been ready to go and when he finally gave up his battered body was happy to find relief in death's arms. The old hermit was at peace; eternally a wolf.

They turned to one another, about to speak, when a small shriek reached their ears. Rain!

Immediately, the prince turned on his heels and sprinted out of the room. He wasn't about to let anything happen to the little girl when he had just taken guardianship of her. He would rather die. Sensing that Merlin was hot on his tail, the pair of them skidded outside, ready to fight what they assumed to be approaching villagers. And then they froze.

A semi-circle of wolves had formed. They stood in silent respect to their lost pack-brother. Luminous eyes glowed ethereally in the diminishing light, as they all stared towards the cave. Neither boy was sure how exactly they knew that Conrí had perished but they guessed it was a wolf sense, a telepathic link.

Unsure of what to do, Merlin and Arthur moved over to Rain who had gotten over her initial surprise and was watching the wolf pack with wide eyes. They stood protectively by her side. They doubted she would be harmed but no chances could be taken. They waited apprehensively.

Then the alpha male wolf howled and one by one the rest of the pack followed suit. Soon the darkening sky was filled with wolf cries...

**Aw....I'm sorry that I killed Conri when you wanted him to be all right. Please review even so. They're going back to Britain next chapter!**


	21. Solitude

**Thank you very much for the great reviews. Obviously they fuelled me to write another chapter. I would've put it up yesterday but internet kept crashing, still is in fact. I'm doing it now - finally! - because I've finished all my maths papers for my maths tutor. Yay! I hate maths. :/**

**Please review. **

Arthur was holding Merlin's hand. That was weird in itself, even discounting the fact they were currently flying across the rural lands of Ireland. He could feel the man's cool fingers in his hot, clammy palm. It amazed him how the manservant could be so unaffected by flight but then he supposed that Merlin _was_ controlling their path. Arthur on the other hand was rather scared. That's why he was trying not to think about the fact he was holding his servant's hand like a desperate maiden clutches the hand of a gallant saviour.

In reality, Arthur wasn't actually sure whether it was necessary to hold onto Merlin. He supposed that the warlock's spell would probably reach him if he floated alone – much like the stones. However, in all honesty, he didn't want to fly alone, Merlin was like an anchor and a reassurance that everything would be all right and he wouldn't drift off into space. He felt as insignificant and helpless as a leaf in the wind. He was completely at the wind's mercy; in this case the wind being Merlin.

As the airstream buffeted the young prince, he glanced over to his manservant's other side and caught sight of Rain who was also gliding through the air. He was surprised to see that she looked almost as much at ease with her present situation as Merlin-the-magician-himself. When Arthur said she glided, she really did. Her pale clothing flowed around her, gracefully, and her white-blonde hair billowed out behind. The prince was reminded of a snowy dove….or perhaps a ghost. She had that ethereal look.

They had left almost immediately after Conrí's death. They only just had time to bury him in a grave which was dug using Merlin's increasingly useful magic before the villagers discovered the cave and they had to flee. It had been a terrifying moment, as the wild eyed, ferocious men drew closer and they had no escape. Once again, Arthur had had to persuade a panic-stricken Merlin to lift them into the air. He had not conceded willingly until he saw there was no other option. Arthur had been certain that had the warlock not acted when he did then, because of how fast and hard the prince's heart was beating, it would have burst. He was that tense and stressed.

It was just like Merlin to leave things until the last second though.

As they travelled across rugged, Irish landscape: littered with forest land, winding rivers, glistening lakes, pointed, snow-crested mountains, cluttered, little settlements and lush meadows; the trio found themselves nearing the sea which separated the islands of Ireland and England. It spanned out in front of them like a huge, piece of dark blue glass – glinting in the early morning sunshine.

The time it had taken to get from the mountain cave to the water was barely anything and they would surely get to Britain before noon. Flying was definitely a faster mode of transport than riding a horse or walking.

So far they had journeyed in silence. In truth, silence had, in the majority, reined since Conrí's death. None of them had really felt the need to talk, too deeply buried in their grief. That was until now, when Arthur felt that conversation was necessary once more. There was little point wasting all this invaluable time doing nothing and idly observing the land. They needed to be planning stratagems, talking over ideas.

"Merlin, where did you send the stones?" he asked, aware that his voice was much quieter in the wind so he had to speak much louder in order to be heard.

"England….Camelot," Merlin shouted back, his raven hair wild in the blustery weather.

"Yes, but where _exactly_?" Arthur persisted.

"Well, sire, I'm not exactly sure," Merlin looked momentarily guilty, biting his chapped lips, "You see I don't _really _have much control over my magic. It has a bit of a mind of its own, to be honest. I'm working on accuracy." He added the last sentence earnestly and the prince sighed.

"So, they could be anywhere in Camelot?"

"If they got to Camelot," Merlin muttered, under his breath.

"Well, where are you taking us?"

"Um….I'm just sort of following the stones," the warlock replied, sheepishly.

"All right, but wherever they land…we need to get the Shadows there and then we need to trap them in the stones. Well, I suppose _you _need to trap them. Do you know the spell?"

"No, perhaps we need to take a detour to the castle," Merlin mused.

"But I thought you said you would know it?"

"I lied." The young man shrugged. "But I'm sure Gaius has a book with it in. He has lots of books. They're really useful."

"Hang on! Gaius?"

Merlin's whole form tensed, Arthur felt it through his fingertips. He could even feel the youth's pulse quicken in his wrist. A pair of anxious, stormy eyes glanced at him and then away. Obviously, he hadn't wanted to let that slip and that was understandable. Even if Gaius wasn't a sorcerer, he was still punishable for harbouring a young warlock and keeping magic books. The punishment would be death.

"No! Not Gaius'…_my _book," Merlin garbled, terrified. He may have gotten himself into hot water by showing that he was capable of magic but there was no need to drag the ones he loved into it too. He couldn't believe he'd beenso stupid and careless as to drop his guardian and mentor into the conversation. Glancing at Arthur, he was certain the man had heard and knew exactly what he had meant.

"Gaius knows you're a sorcerer?"

"No?" Merlin said, hopefully.

"Has he always known?"

"Well, to be honest, Arthur, it's kind of hard to hide being a warlock if you live with someone day and night."

"But it's easy enough to hide from a man you serve every day, is it? A man that you are supposed to be loyal and truthful to?"

"Hmm…" Merlin replied but did not elaborate. He didn't look at his master.

Arthur knew that he'd made the young man uncomfortable but he felt that he deserved it for hiding all this time. They were supposed to be friends weren't they?

Once again silence fell. Merlin looked down below him in an effort to ignore the daggers which were being shot at him by his companion. His eyes observed the undulating waves and the occasional white crests in a particularly rough part of sea. Every so often, he would catch sight of something moving in the dark waters: the glimpse of a slate-grey fin or a spurt from a blowhole or a shimmering, mass which could only be a silvery shoal of fish. These anomalies kept his interest for the duration of the journey across the sea. He was so absorbed that he only just realised that they had reached land when it appeared directly below him. Blue expanse was replaced, first with a port full of ships and men, and then with the green foliage of forestland.

With his distraction gone, Merlin found himself looking up once more into the face of his friend. Arthur stared back at him, eyebrows raised in a silent question. Finally, Merlin broke.

"Oh, come on, Arthur, you could hardly expect me to tell you! We've already discussed this. You would have killed me the first time you met me. In fact, I'm not even sure whether you won't kill me after all this is finished."

It was Arthur's turn to lapse into quiet. He'd pushed that decision into the back of his mind and tried to ignore it but now Merlin had brought it back to the forefront of his thoughts. The very fact that they were returning to Camelot made the decision even harder because that meant they were yet to defeat the task of destroying the Shadows and Arthur would no doubt have to see his father with the knowledge that his manservant was a warlock. Could he keep that secret? Could he defy his father? The Prince had never been an indecisive man, ever since he was a small boy he always knew exactly what he wanted to do and when, he didn't use to think about the consequences. Even now he sometimes forgot his actions had heavy costs. But wisdom had been gained in such a short time and Arthur knew that the choice he made would affect a man that he greatly cared for.

"That may be true but….whoa!" The Prince let out a startled cry as his hand was suddenly ripped from his companion's. The loss of contact both shocked and scared him. He was falling through space. Somewhere in the distance he could hear Merlin yelling for him frantically.

Perhaps he had been wrong. Perhaps contact with the warlock was essential for levitation. But that didn't explain why his link with Merlin had been broken; he certainly hadn't initiated it. As he plummeted, Arthur drew only one conclusion, it had to be the work of the Shadows. They were close and still trying to finish him off.

* * *

Merlin stared in horror as his friend dropped like a stone. He didn't understand why the Prince had released his grip, maybe he was angry at Merlin and that's why he had acted so rashly. However, the break in their touch shouldn't have caused Arthur to fall. The warlock's magic should have held him up even floating alone. His spell seemed to have stopped working on the other young man, though, and he had no idea why.

Trying to rebuild the broken bridge and fast, Merlin worked out that in order to save his friend then he must stop using the enchantment he was currently casting and restart. That way he could skirt round the blockade that seemed to be stopping him from including Arthur in his spell. Conversely, that would mean allowing him and Rain to also freefall through the air – he was risking their lives too because if he wasn't quick enough or for some reason couldn't cast another charm, then they would die. Merlin wasn't so much worried about his own life as the little girl's; her life wasn't really his to gamble with.

Looking over to her with frantic blue eyes, he tried to portray the message, make her understand what he was going to do. Over the wind, she would never hear him and his lips would be difficult to decipher. Rain stared back blankly. She still couldn't comprehend him.

Eventually, the warlock decided to put the faith Arthur had in him to the test. If the Prince believed he could do such things then why should he believe in himself? Closing his eyes, the young man stopped channelling his magic and he felt his heart fly into his mouth as they began to drop. Dizziness overwhelmed him.

* * *

Gwen was wandering in the castle courtyard. She didn't really know what to do with herself. Morgana had allowed her leave for the day, claiming that she worked too hard for her own good and needed a good rest. Her advice was to use the day sleeping or else shopping in the local market, neither of which appealed to the young handmaiden particularly. She had contemplated the market but then decided she could handle the hustle and bustle and noise. She wanted peace and quiet and space – but she didn't want to sleep. That would be a complete waste of such a beautiful day. Gazing up into the glorious, blue sky she savoured the wonderful warmth and sunshine that was illuminating the large, stone structure of Camelot.

She wished she had someone to enjoy the weather with but with Morgana having banished her from her rooms and Merlin being away in Ireland, she had no one. And Gwen hated being alone. To have someone to chat and gossip with, to joke and tease, that's how she preferred spending her time. She had sorely missed her young friend in his absence. Morgana was a very good friend but Merlin was just so much fun and she loved spending hours with him. She missed his cheeky smile and naïve comments. She missed his arguing and banter with Arthur. She missed his innocence; everything at Camelot seemed so much darker without him.

Sighing quietly to herself, the pretty young woman decided a change of direction was in order and she began to walk out of the castle gates. Travelling quickly through the town in order to avoid being sidetracked and captured by traders selling their wares, Gwen soon found herself in a peaceful meadow on the outskirts of the main settlement. With it being spring, she soon caught sight of lots of little lambs frolicking in the grass, their tails wagging excitedly. Larger, woollier ewes stood around watching their offspring with casual eyes, chewing cud steadily.

Now she didn't feel quite so alone, perhaps she could even talk to the sheep. Smiling radiantly and approaching a couple of loopy lambs, who were busy trying to jump over one another, Gwen offered them a tentative hello. Obviously she didn't expect them to reply, she wasn't going insane, but she hoped for a response. However, the reaction she did get shocked her. The lambs took one look her way, let out frightened squeals - their pale, watery eyes wide – and fled, kicking up tufts of grass as they ran. The handmaiden was disappointed; she didn't think she was that scary.

Then she noticed that all the flock were running and the ground shook slightly beneath their movement. Fearful baas filled the, what was once quiet, air. Gwen looked around her quickly to see what on earth had scared them so much, she was now positive it couldn't have been just her.

In the sky, plunging towards her, she spotted a body, dark against the vivid blue sky. Her mouth opened in complete surprise. Then, as it drew closer, she realised that there were two more figures falling from the heavens above it. Angels? Her mind asked, ridiculously.

As she watched, the two shapes which had been farther away seemed to be catching up with the nearer figure. In fact, now the first figure was so close she could make out that he was a man. She could hear his yelling. His golden, blond hair glinted in the sun.

That's when Gwen realised who it was and she let out a small gasp of horror.

**Wow, I wasn't even going to end this chapter with a cliffhanger but then oops, out it popped. I think I'm addicted. I will try and update very soon, that is if you review. :P**


	22. Stupid

**Wowie, is this another update in the same day?! I think its a testament to how keen and supportive you guys as you review so much on the same day and spur me on to write the next chapter immediately. Though, it may also be because I have quite a lot of spare time on my hands what with it being the Easter Hols and all. There is _nothing _good on TV on a Tuesday. Tuesday TV is crap. Perhaps I should be revising though. Ah well.**

**However, it is quite a short chapter so I may have to give you another quite soon. I've already got part of it written anyway. **

**Going to see 17 again tomorrow! Yay!**

**OMG, I think this is the first POV from Rain! Not much of one though. **

Rain raked at Merlin's pale skin, exposed at his neck, with her fingernails. She didn't know what was going on but they were suddenly falling through the air at a very fast pace and her dark-haired friend had closed his eyes. The little girl was fairly sure that he was unconscious because he still hadn't reacted to her frantic and increasingly violent attempts to revive him. Both of them just continued to plummet after Arthur and the ground was coming up scarily quickly.

"Please, please, please," she murmured, tugging at his shirt.

Merlin's eyes flickered slightly and the girl's heart leapt hopefully but he still did not regain consciousness. Desperation was enveloping her and tears began streaming down her cheeks; tears of frustration and fear.

* * *

Inside himself, the young warlock was battling with the Shadows. They had somehow found a way to limit his magic, to stop him from using what usually came instinctually to him. He had never felt so helpless and it sickened and scared him – like someone had ripped out part of his soul. Without magic he was useless. Therefore he needed to struggle against their power and come out on top. He needed to save Arthur and Rain.

But because of injuries he'd sustained before, he was much weaker so it was harder to fight against the Shadows' substantial power. Perhaps, without the physical damage then he could have beaten them from his mind easily but now it was so much more difficult. They were crushing him mentally, draining him of power.

He couldn't allow them to beat him, though, he was stronger than that. It was his destiny to protect Arthur and he couldn't fail at that just because a bunch of invisible _things _were trying to stop him. And he had joint guardianship of Rain, he wasn't about to let her die either…

"Merlin!" Arthur's familiar voice burst into his head suddenly.

The warlock's eyes flicked open, flashing golden once more. The barrier had been broken and he had battled off the demons – for now. Once again he had control of his own powers. Now he could save Arthur.

* * *

Gwen wanted to scream but the sound would just not leave her lips, she had no breath left in her lungs. She clutched at the base of her throat in fear, it was the position she always adopted when she was anxious or didn't know what to do. Somehow it reassured her.

The handmaiden found herself running across the grass towards where the Prince was falling from the sky. She didn't know what that would achieve…perhaps, she could catch him? No, that was ridiculous. She would be crushed by the man. Still, she couldn't just stand by and watch the King's son plunge to his death. Even if he wasn't Arthur then she still wouldn't want to see a human being die. However, she had to help…somehow.

"Arthur!" she called, her voice carried upwards by the breeze. The man caught sight of her and his eyes widened with surprise and worry.

He didn't reply; which wasn't really that surprising considering the situation was in, he probably didn't have the thoughts to form a sentence. The ground was so close now. Gwen was imagining his body splattered on the floor, bones completely smashed and his handsome face mangled. She didn't know she was capable of such grotesque thoughts and she felt nauseous. Please don't let that happen.

So close now. In two seconds he would hit the hard earth with a sickening thud. Gwen knew she would scream then. She would cry too. He couldn't die, not after all he'd been through so recently. Praying to the gods, the handmaiden watched the Prince's final part of his descent.

But he never hit the ground. He stopped abruptly, his body jerking in a painful way as he hung, suspended just a metre or two above the grass meadow. His head snapped brutally on his neck and Gwen winced at the sight. Still, it hadn't killed him; he was alive. Just…floating…

As she stared at the limp form of Arthur, he gazed back at her with apprehensive eyes and then he glanced away from her, looking above him. Gwen followed his gaze. Slowly descending from the sky were the two other figures she'd seen before; she'd barely spared them a thought, not whilst Prince Arthur was in danger. Now though, she wondered who on earth they were and why they too hadn't hit the earth. Perhaps they were the people who had caused Arthur to fall in the first place – demons. She braced herself, uncertainly.

They were coming out of the sun and therefore Gwen couldn't make out faces, just sizes. A man and a child. She squinted, trying to see more, but the glare was too much. Suddenly, the smaller human had landed softly on the meadow, her bare feet gently pressing down the tall, slender blades of grass. She was a little girl; maybe six, maybe seven. Long, snowy-blonde hair fell down passed her skinny waist and large, strangely deep, serious eyes observed Gwen with interest. The handmaiden shivered slightly under her gaze. There was definitely something otherworldly about that child.

It was at this moment that she realised that Arthur too had dropped onto the ground. He was rubbing his whiplashed neck with a pained expression on his face. The young woman edged towards him, both wanting to help him and seek protection at the same time. Their eyes connected fleetingly and then the Prince looked away, watching someone just over Gwen's shoulder. Aware he was looking at whoever the last person was, she turned.

His charcoal hair windswept and wild, cheeks pale and marred with bruises, clothes torn and smattered with blood stains, Merlin stood before her. His eyes glowed with an unearthly golden colour. Gwen raised a hand to her mouth in shock. She could _feel _the power emanating from the boy; the magic.

Merlin was magic.

The revelation astounded her and yet did not surprise her at all. Merlin was a mere servant, clumsy and often foolish. He served under the Prince of Camelot and put up with all the taunts and teasing. He was so young, so inexperienced; not learned at all. But yet, on the other hand, Gwen knew that he deserved such powers for he was good and kind and brave. If a man had to have magic then she would choose Merlin.

He never said he was ordinary and she realised now why he had said that. She could feel the irony of her words now. Merlin was far from ordinary. Merlin was a warlock. And that thought didn't even scare her.

What of Arthur though? Merlin must have been the one to save him from the fall. Did that mean he already knew? Or was he finding out now, like her?

"Ah, hello, Gwen," Merlin greeted her with the smile she'd missed all this time. It wasn't as bright as usual but still _his _smile nonetheless, "I take it we're in Camelot then?"

"Um…yes," she nodded, tentatively. She shot a surreptitious glance at Arthur but he was looking at the young girl with relieved eyes.

"Good, I got us here then, Arthur, didn't I?" the warlock grinned, weakly, at his friend.

The Prince offered him an incredulous expression. "You could've had made a less dramatic entrance though. Next time, I'm sticking to a horse for fear of dying a very painful death."

"That was hardly my fault," Merlin protested, "It was the Shadows."

"Still, you didn't have to leave it until I was practically hitting the ground before saving me. Sooner would've been better." Arthur raised an eyebrow as Gwen watched the exchange between the two with astonished eyes.

Merlin looked sheepish. "Well, actually, I can explain that…"

Suddenly the young magician stopped midsentence and frowned before turning to the handmaiden with a questioning expression on his face. He pointed a finger, wagging it at her, and winced.

"You don't know, do you?" he sighed, shaking his head in disbelief at his stupidity. He had grown so used to using his magic carelessly and for the people around him to know he was a warlock without him having to worry about hiding it. His absence from Camelot had completely thrown his concealment.

"No," Gwen replied, quietly.

"Well," Arthur said, wryly, "She does now."

**Lol. Well observed Arthur. **


	23. Saving

**Theres a bit of a lull in the story here. Less dramatic.**

"Are you going to explain it to her or shall I?" Arthur asked, a smile curling his lips.

"What is there to explain?" Merlin replied, curtly. "I'm a warlock. I can do magic."

Both men turned to look at the handmaiden with curious eyes. They wanted to witness her reaction. Well, they were going to be disappointed if they expected screaming or crying or violence. She was going to be cool, this wasn't a big deal. If they could act nonchalantly about the entire matter then so could she. Lifting her chin, Gwen stared back at Merlin.

"So," she said, her voice amazingly casual, "Are you going to explain everything to me as we walk back to the castle?"

"Um…yeah, that would be a good idea," Merlin nodded, leaping enthusiastically to the girl's side. Arthur grabbed the strange child's hand and followed the two of them on the way back up to Camelot Castle.

"But first things first, I don't want to be rude, but who is the girl?" Gwen queried, glancing at the blond-haired youngster who stared back with those huge eyes.

"Oh, that's Rain. Let me explain…."

And so, Merlin launched into the retelling of all that had happened to them up until this point. Gwen listened attentively: shocked, appalled and amazed by their experiences.

The castle was a familiar and welcoming sight with its huge, grey stone walls and shining battlements. At its foot, sprawled out in a messy array of streets and buildings, the town of Camelot was a scene also very warming to the heart. Arthur didn't realise how much he'd missed the kingdom until he was back. Walking through the market place, the four were immediately spotted and Arthur's presence registered with great happiness and excitement. The Prince had returned! Did that mean the Shadows were defeated for good?

Several children hurried along side them, getting pleasure out of merely being near the young prince and his comrades. They whooped and cheered.

Upon reaching the gates of the castle, it seemed that word had got ahead of them as several guards and servants waited to greet them. However, Arthur registered; it seemed the King was absent. Perhaps, he did not think them worthy of his presence. A hot anger spread over the young man's skin, prickling uncomfortably. This dissipated though as Merlin glanced at him and offered him a huge grin. Obviously, Arthur realised, he was relieved. No Uther meant that he didn't need to be judged yet. He still had time left. Strangely, Arthur also felt the relief wash over him too.

"Come, young sire, come inside. You must be very hungry. You have much to tell us and we have lots to inform you of," one of Uther's key advisors had appeared and was ushering him inside. His eyes flickered from the prince to the servant to the little girl as he spoke but he did not welcome them in the same way.

"Merlin and Rain will be coming with me," Arthur stated, gesturing for them to follow.

The advisor looked momentarily surprised but then he became indifferent and led them inside.

"Quinn…my father…where is he?"

"He is quite busy at the moment, my lord," Quinn replied, looking slightly nervous. "Now, if you come this way then we can set you up in the dining hall. The kitchen staff have already been informed of your return."

He led them round the corner of a passageway and as he did so Merlin tugged at Arthur's sleeve. His eyes were pained.

"Sire," he began. Arthur guessed he was trying to fit back in with being his servant after addressing him with his first name all this time. It wouldn't be proper if he was referred to by a mere servant as Arthur. "Um…I'm not really hungry. Would it be all right if I went back to my chambers? I want to see Gaius. Perhaps have him sort out a few of my bandages."

"Er…sure, Merlin," the older man nodded. The warlock offered him a grateful smile and hurried off.

* * *

Pushing the door open tentatively, Merlin slipped into the physician's quarters full of anticipation. He hadn't seen his uncle in weeks and he's truly missed him. Excitement welled within the boy. His gaze roamed the room, it was still as cluttered as he remembered it, in fact, Merlin was fairly sure that nothing had moved. Books were still strewn about the place, glass bottles and ceramic pots littered the surfaces, ruffled pieces of paper, random instruments that the warlock couldn't name. And a pair of familiar, battered glasses perched precariously on the edge of a worn desk.

The man to whom the glasses belonged was bumbling around the work surface, muttering to himself and rifling among the many scattered objects.

"Now where on earth did you put them, silly man?" Gaius admonished himself. His rough, veined hands ran over the grainy wood like moving frantically spiders. "Where?!"

Merlin saw what was going to happen before it actually did. The physician's elbow swung round and knocked the glasses straight off the desk. They went flying through the air, destined to drop on the hard stone and shatter. Gaius let out an annoyed cry, his eyes watching their fatal descent.

"I can see that I arrived just in time," Merlin smirked, his irises flashing gold as the glasses froze midair. He plucked them out of space and handed them back to their owner. Gaius didn't care about the glasses though; he knocked them aside and moved forwards.

"Merlin!" he exclaimed, throwing his arms around the skinny boy, "You're back. And alive!" Merlin returned the hug, happily.

"I guess that's always a plus," the young man grinned.

"In your case, yes." Pulling back, the physician looked him up and down. "Well, you've certainly been in the wars. Sit down. Whilst I sort you out you can tell me _exactly _what happened."

Merlin did as he was told, taking a seat upon the doctor's patient bench. He removed his shirt so that Gaius could get better access to his bandages. The white material was yellowing by now and needed to be changed. Some of his stitches also needed to be removed or redone. Whilst the physician worked, Merlin talked – his words interspersed with a series of winces and hisses of pain every time Gaius caught a particularly painful bit.

The old man took it all very well. Up until the point that Merlin revealed that he'd told the Crown Prince of Camelot that he was a wizard.

"You didn't?" he asked, stunned.

"I did."

"And?"

"He still hasn't made the decision," Merlin smiled, faintly.

"Oh."

"He said that he would make that decision after we defeated the Shadows."

"And you haven't defeated them yet?"  
"No, that's why I came here. To look at your books for the right spell."

"Right, well, before you do that, I advise a bit of bed rest. You look completely exhausted."

"Gaius, there isn't time," Merlin replied, amazed by the man's casual attitude.

"Merlin, you need your strength. An hour long sleep. That's all I ask. I'll look for this spell."

The younger man looked at his uncle and then nodded, reluctantly. "An hour."

After his nephew had padded to bed and completely passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow, Gaius began to search.

* * *

About half an hour had passed and the old man had got no further with his discovery of the spell. It was irritating, yes, but Gaius was a very persistent and determined person. He would not give up until he'd trawled every single volume. He used his gnarled fingers to flip swiftly through washed out pages of tome after tome, his rescued glasses balanced on the end of his nose.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Looking up quickly, Gaius pushed aside all his large books and began to chop up an owl talon that rested on the desk. He needed it for a medicine he was making, and to cover up his misdoings. Then he called for them to come in. He was surprised when none other than Prince Arthur stepped into the room. He looked just as pale and weary as Merlin had but perhaps not as battered. There were huge, purple circles beneath his blue eyes. With tiredness, he didn't look as juvenile as he used to. He'd gained years on this trip.

"Gaius…is Merlin….?"

"He's asleep."

"Oh." Arthur looked ready to walk back out but Gaius caught him before he could.

"So, Merlin told you then?"  
"Well, yes, he did after awhile."

"And what do you think of his…._difference_, my lord?"

"So far, I have only seen him do good with it. I mean, when he lifted the stones and he lifted us. But he said that wasn't real magic so I guess I'm yet to see his full potential."

Gaius did a double take.

"_Real _magic?" he repeated, disbelievingly.

"Yes, Merlin said that wasn't real magic. He said that real magic was with spells and enchantments and things," Arthur nodded.

Gaius practically exploded with amazement and exasperation. He completely forgot who he was addressing, that didn't matter. He couldn't believe that Merlin was doing himself down so, ridiculously, much.

"_Merlin _said that wasn't _real _magic?" he spluttered, incredulously, his eyebrow raising even further than it usually did, almost disappearing into his hair line.

"Yeah," Arthur murmured, unsurely, as Gaius approached him brandishing a dried owl talon at him threateningly. He backed up slightly, worried.

"Sire, let me tell you that many sorcerers would _kill _to have the gift that Merlin has. There is no one else ever recorded like him; he's one of a kind. He has the ability to move objects instinctively – without incantations or learning – he doesn't even _think_, it just happens. For Merlin to just pass it off as nothing is just like him, it's his character, but the boy is special. He is prophesised about." The old physician added a tap on the Prince's hard chest for effect, emphasising his point.

"Prophesised about?" Arthur repeated, curiously.

"Yes, and so are you, as a matter of fact. Hasn't he ever told you? From the day he was born, he was destined to protect you and the future of Camelot. Your fates are entwined together closer than a weaver woman's best dress. He's always muttering about how you are two sides of the same coin, though where he got that from the Lord only knows. The pair of you are prophesised to unite the lands of Albion and bring peace upon the land of Camelot, though how you'll manage I have no idea." Gaius was shaking his head, doubtfully, as he went back to chopping up his talon on the work bench. The sound of metal on wood clunked rhythmically in the enclosed space.

Arthur watched for a few moments as he collected his severely muddled thoughts.

"So…Merlin's been protecting _me _all this time?"

"Hmm…" the doctor nodded, still concentrating on his slicing. He didn't look up.

"And this is with his magic?"

"Mmhmm…."

"I don't think that's true. He's never done anything I've seen. Well, apart from saving me from that mad grieving witch-mother and doing what he did recently."

"Really? Is that what you would say?"

"Yes."

"What about the snakes?"

"The snakes?"

"That came out of the shield. Why did they come out when obviously Knight Valiant did not wish them to? Who showed you the severed snake's head? Who stayed up all night trying to perfect a spell to save the day?"

"Er…"

"And then there was the blue orb that led you out of the cave."

"Hang on! I was saving _him_."

"And who really defeat the griffin that could only be beaten with magic? Did you truly believe it to be Lancelot?"

"I…but he…."

"The time that you got enchanted by Sophia and nearly drowned. Who dived into a freezing lake?"

"Enchanted?! Wait! What?

"Who was it that saved your father from imminent death at the hands of the Uprising Sorcerers?"

"Morgana?"

"No, _Merlin_. Don't you see, my lord? Your servant has been saving your life and the lives of your loved ones all this time without you even realising. Which I think should say something about your observational skills because Merlin isn't the most subtle of warlocks."

Arthur was completely gobsmacked. He could never have guessed all that his servant had done for him since he had come to Camelot. Even after he'd been such a…prat, half the time.

**Lots of speech. i hate speech!**


	24. Seer

**AN/ You may have noticed the longer space between updates which was to make sure I got the chapter perfect. In fact, I'm really quite proud of this chapter. Lots of description. I think I like Arthur's thoughts about Merlin best. **

**To the guys that suggested things I'd missed out times that Merlin had saved Arthur, I didn't think it was as effective if I literally listed them all. It would have been rather boring and repetitive. I think its more fun if Merlin himself drops a few secret rescues into the convo. For example, with him trading his life for Arthur's.**

**Oh, the bits about the Aeneid, inspired by GCSE Latin. Yeah, man. I'm cool. :)**

**Also, I've been being pestered by a plot bunny for ages about 'The Last Dragon Egg' which I then decided to turn into a kind of Merlin epic in which A + M go with a bunch of knights in search of the last dragon egg. They start initially in England but then travel to France and then through Alps to Italy following a trail. Get into all sorts of trouble including gladiator fights, Merlin realising how incapable Arthur is of cooking and skinning animals being a Prince and all, stalker chickens, toothache and....other stuff which I haven't decided yet. And I was wondering if any of you would be interested in reading it?**

Uther felt his horse move beneath him, its muscles rippling under the rich leather saddle. He enjoyed times like this, where one could feel part of the animal they were riding. Ever since he was a young boy he'd loved to ride. These days it had become more of a day to day duty but he really shouldn't take such an exceptional experience between man and beast for granted. His horse was not just a mode of transport but a friend and a protector; people in general, as well as himself, would do well to remember that. He'd been through too numerous horses to count and each one had served him well – they were as much his loyal subjects as the citizens of Camelot.

"Come on, boy," he whispered, encouragingly, urging his mount into an even faster gallop. The horse obeyed, reaching his head forward and flicking his ears up. He let out a snort of excitement as he ran, hooves pounding rhythmically on the hard turf.

Behind him, what men he had ordered to come, galloped in his wake - their own horses puffing and sweating. He knew some of his soldiers were up ahead of him too, ready to face whatever foe laid in wait. Uther wondered who that enemy could be; he had faced many a sorcerer in his time, he'd met many a magical beast, but he had no idea who on earth would want to move _stones. _It just seemed preposterous. And yet they were still following the great, grey rocks that moved lazily across the pale sky, black against the wispy clouds.

By the looks of things, the stones were losing height. Soon they would be landing upon the region of Camelot and Uther was determined to be rid of them.

* * *

Gwen needed to go back to the Lady Morgana. That was her duty and she never shirked her duties. But Prince Arthur had burdened her with the task of looking after their young visitor also. In fact, he'd made her promise that she'd take good care of the girl. So now the handmaiden sat in the empty dining hall, with the child across the wide, wooden table. Rain, that was her name, had her small hands curled defensively in her laps and her thick hair had fallen across her face so that Gwen could no longer see those massive, disquieting eyes. In one way she was thankful for the absence of that intense gaze but at the same time she worried because without it, she had no idea what the girl was thinking.

Coughing slightly, Gwen remembered her manners, and decided that now would be a good time to strike up a polite conversation. The child had barely spoken the entire time they had eaten and then when Arthur had rushed off whilst saying goodbye, she had just blinked and then stared after him as he departed. She had said nothing. Now, Gwen had thought that quite rude considering the Prince had directly addressed her but she had not said anything because Arthur hadn't. However, if Rain didn't reply this time then she might inform her of some good conduct when speaking to royalty. King Uther would be appalled if Prince Arthur's guest was in any way discourteous to him.

"So, Rain," Gwen said the girl's name to reassure herself that she had remembered the correct one. When the child looked up, she smiled and continued, "I hear you have been having quite some adventures. They all sound a bit scary to me. Were you scared? Or are you quite brave?" As she spoke, the handmaid leant in conspiratorial way across the table. Children usually enjoyed it if it seemed as if they were in on the secret and tended to open up more. Well, that's what Gwen had thought. However, Rain's face went completely blank and she backed into her chair, seemingly wanting to get as far away from the older woman as possible. Gwen felt rather offended.

Frowning, the blacksmith's daughter tried again, hoping for a better response. This time she did not lean forward but remained an appropriate distance away from the youngster. "Rain? Will you answer my question?"

Gwen was quite disconcerted, to see that the little girl was staring intensely at her once more – concentration etched into her small face. As Gwen's lips moved, so did hers and the woman wondered whether the child was copying her; mocking her. A bubble of irritation swelled in the servant's stomach and her forehead creased into several lines. Rain seemed to realised she was annoyed though, as she stopped mimicking abruptly and clamped her mouth shut. Her expression was worried.

That was when Gwen's forgiving nature kicked in and she realised that she couldn't get angry with a child. Whatever it took, she would get Rain to talk to her and she wouldn't scare her in the process. Gwen didn't want to frighten children and she certainly wasn't about to start now. It would've just been better if Arthur had told her more about the Irish girl because then they might have more to talk about. As it was, Gwen was a bit nervous of broaching any touchy subjects that would make Rain retreat even further into her shell. Perhaps that was why she was being so quiet, because she was still mourning her lost guardian and didn't really want to speak about the past as it hurt her too much – brought back bad memories.

"Ok, Rain, how about we talk about something else," Gwen suggested, and saw the girl's expression switch to one of concentration again. "What would you like to do now we are at the Castle? We could find you some new clothes to wear or maybe you want to sleep…" The older woman trailed off as she followed Rain's gaze -and realised that she was focussed on Gwen's lips. Suddenly self-conscious, the servant found herself speaking in much more of a mumble, trying not to move her mouth too much. "Or shall we find Arthur…or Merlin if you want? We could go outside?"

Startling the poor handmaiden, Rain suddenly waved her arms and stood up abruptly, her expression frustrated. This frustration was directed at Gwen and she wondered what on earth she could have done to upset the youngster. She watched as the little girl grabbed her pink lips and tugged them up and down, imitating, what Gwen thought, was a floundering fish. In a moment of embarrassment and panic, the dark haired woman thought that the child was insinuating that she looked like a fish when she spoke and Gwen flushed scarlet.

"I am not a fish, no!" Gwen snapped, also standing up, with her hands on her hips.

"No."

Gwen did a double take. She wasn't sure whether the child had actually spoken as it had been so quiet and muffled. She waited, hoping the youngster would open her mouth again. Perhaps, she had made a break through. That didn't stop her being affronted though.

"No, not fish." The way Rain spoke was odd and slightly stunted. Maybe it was her Irish heritage, maybe that's how all the Irish spoke, in this strange soft lilt.

It was as this conversation advancement had been made that the Lady Morgana swept into the room, knocking the huge wooden doors out of her way and causing them to bang loudly on the wall. As usual she was immaculate in appearance: her hair was pinned elegantly upon her head and her outfit – this time a stunning, navy blue dress – complimented her complexion wonderfully. Her sapphire eyes scanned the room, despite it being almost empty, before they fell to rest on the couple sitting, stranded in the middle of the space.

Immediately, Gwen leapt to her feet and curtsied to her mistress and friend. She felt terrible for not finding the Lady sooner (completely forgetting the fact that Morgana had given her the day off and was not expecting her services until tomorrow). She still felt guilty though; she was being idle and lazy. About the open her mouth and apologise profusely, Gwen stopped when she saw Morgana's eyes fall upon the small girl sitting at the table and widen enormously. Her jaw dropped in a peculiarly unladylike manner. The handmaiden could even see a blue vein pulsing in her temple beneath the pale membrane. Gwen knew that vein always appeared when Morgana was stressed or anxious.

"That's the girl," Morgana whispered, finally.

"My lady?" Gwen questioned, confusedly, glancing from Rain to her mistress.

"That's the girl in my dream. Where is she from?" Morgana demanded, fiercely.

"Why, Prince Arthur and Merlin brought her back from their adventures," the handmaiden replied, wondering how the King's ward had not heard of the arrival of the stranger. She also pondered on Morgana's mention of a dream and her heartbeat increased. The Lady's dreams never usually signalled a good future.

"Her name?"

"Rain, my lady, but…" Gwen stopped when Morgana gasped and clutched her throat, her eyes vividly blue.

"_Magic and metal must join with rain and stone…"_ the noblewoman stated and then halted, "I must find Arthur." Then she fled.

Gwen remained standing where she was, severely baffled.

* * *

Arthur wanted to hit himself. Truthfully. Well, perhaps not _really_ as that wouldn't really achieve much and would make him look quite foolish…but metaphorically, he was definitely smacking his head on the wall. All this time - _all_ this _time!_ ­– and he'd never noticed a thing. How could he not notice a thing when Merlin was performing magic right under his nose? What with all the times his life had been miraculously saved and he had put it down to damn good luck, or his own skill or even the skills of others. He'd never even realised that Merlin, his manservant, had a hand – the _biggest_ hand one could say – in all those near escapes. Never once had he been rewarded for his bravery nor his loyalty. He had never looked angry or annoyed when Arthur thanked people other than himself for saving the day. It must have been a thankless task, protecting a man who always depreciated him. And how could he have stood Arthur's taunts? Honestly, the Prince admired his perseverance. He was sure, with his Pendragon temper, he would have snapped, broken and exploded – all at once. But then again, Merlin was different. He was kind and modest, the kind of man that just got on with his job without complaining. Arthur remembered how he had lived in the village of Ealdor, sleeping on the floor, eating slop. Maybe it was a trait of all peasants; perhaps they weren't so demanding and attention seeking. They just carried on. The rich and wealthy should learn from that.

Or maybe it was just Merlin's nature; he was just a good man: humble, gentle, caring.

Comparing himself and his manservant, Arthur felt quite ashamed, disappointed in himself and the actions he had committed. Merlin had never demanded praise or fame for his work; he didn't crave attention. He wasn't arrogant or conceited. Yet, he had so much power. In all honesty, the Prince wasn't surprised that many sorcerers were evil; it was just so tempting to use magic for selfish means. That's why he supposed Merlin was unlike them, he was made differently; his disposition didn't allow him to hurt others.

"Uh-hmm…" A cough brought Arthur out of his thoughts and he blinked, abruptly. Standing in front of him was the man whom around his thoughts had centred.

"Merlin," he stated, pointlessly.

"Arthur," Merlin repeated, smirking.

"Umm…"

"Come on," Merlin said, clapping his hands together, "There's no time for dilly-dallying. We have a country to save."

"Do you have the spell then?" Arthur asked, surprised. He didn't think they would find it so quickly.

"Oh…yeah, I forgot that."

"Let's look at these books then."

The three men cleared a large desk, which had been out of use for months due to the amount of clutter that had accumulated over the years, and then proceeded to re-clutter it with an array of huge dusty tomes. On his own, Gaius had managed to get through four but there were still plenty to search through. All of varying sizes, subjects and authors, some of the books were easy to understand and some were not so. For example, Arthur found one that seemed to be written in a foreign language which Merlin informed him was Latin. 'Oh,' Arthur had nodded, "I knew that." To which the manservant replied, "You should have."

The Prince vaguely recalled being educated on the 'delights' of Latin at some point in his life, probably around the age of ten or eleven but, frankly, it had gone in one ear and out the other. Arthur wasn't an academic that was certain; he could employ people to read books for him, couldn't he? There was no point studying. Well, that had always been his motto and his excuse for when he wanted to go out and ride his horse or practice archery. In some ways he was right, they were the skills he mainly needed now, being a knight, but there would come a time, like this one, where he needed to be more knowledgeable. However, it seemed Merlin, the village boy knew more than him. He would be useful in future problems.

Another good reason to keep him alive, Arthur added to a mental list he seemed to be forming. It was rather biased.

Merlin was flicking through the flimsy pages of a particularly old volume that was written completely in Latin. Fortunately, he could understand it after years of studying books his father had brought back from Italy when he was a youngster. He had spent hours, late at night with a candle by his mattress, pouring over Roman texts. The poems had been his favourite: Virgil especially and his 'Aeneid' with the courageous Trojan Aeneas who left the ruins of his country and people to form a new civilisation. His favourite bit was actually about Nisus and Euryalus and their love for one another, fighting to the death.

He had lifted the book off Arthur who had taken one look at the untidy, foreign scrawl and frowned in confusion, with one of the funniest expressions that Merlin had even had the fortune to come across. In fact, he had been reluctant to relieve the Prince of the volume as it was so much more entertaining to watch him struggle.

However, as it turned out, the warlock had done the correct thing because as he turned another delicate page and read the inked scribble on the paper, he realised that the drawings accompanying the writing were almost identical to the ones he'd seen in the temple of Erebus. The stones, the Shadows…him….they were all there.

And the spell!

Just as he was about to call out to the others and try practicing the enchantment out loud, the door into the physician's chambers banged open as if a hurricane had knocked it down and in marched the Lady Morgana. Her sapphire eyes were wild with an emotion that Merlin could not quite decipher but recognised, uncomfortably, from that time in the corridor when she had grabbed him. He tensed.

"Arthur," she said, voice panicked.

"Morgana," he replied, frowning when he saw her harried condition. Jumping up from the desk, he strode towards her and took her arms in a compassionate gesture.

"Its all going to go wrong," the noblewoman stated, her face snow-white and ghostly, "Everything is going to go wrong! Uther….he's in danger. You….Merlin….the Shadows…" Eventually, the woman tailed off into an almost meaningless babble of which only certain words could be detected. Arthur supported her as she collapsed onto him.

"Er…Gaius?" he questioned, worriedly. The physician hurried over and ordered him to lay her on the patient's bench. And there the young lady remained, unconscious and unmoving with a troublingly pale face and sweat-beaded brow.

"She will be fine." The old man finally pronounced after doing a quick check of her vitals. "She is just exhausted and stressed."

"I wanted to see her but I hadn't expected her to greet us like that," Arthur said, with a small, unsure laugh. "And what on earth did she mean about my father and it all going wrong? In fact, where is my father?"

"What? You mean to tell me that no one told you?" Gaius asked, surprised

"Told us what?" Merlin asked, apprehensively, climbing swiftly to his feet. He could sense things were only going downhill from here.

"Well, King Uther set out earlier on horse-back with a band of knights," Gaius informed them, "I'm not quite sure where they went as he was very secretive. Perhaps that's why none of the advisors told you, because he didn't want to worry you if you arrived. Actually, if I do recall, they said something about following some objects in the sky…oh."

Gaius stopped, realising the gravity of what he had just said.

"The stones!" Merlin flew across the room.

**But not literally. You got that right? He isn't using magic or anything. Its just a figure of speech, I wasn't sure if that was clear and now I've just written this pointless babble about something you probably already knew. Anyway, REVIEW!**


	25. Silent

**Thanks for the reviews.**

**I'm sorry for the long update and the really short chapter but depsite your want for lots of chapters and the finale I have exams and I have no time! This will be the last one until I finished. Sorry.**

Rain was staring out of the window. Her brown eyes glinted in the sunlight which filtered into the room as she watched two figures hurrying out into the courtyard. As they ran, one tripped slightly on the uneven cobbles and had to be grabbed from behind by the other to keep him upright. Once his balance had been regained, the pair continued at a swift pace across the space. Rain kept her gaze trained on them as they vanished into a low slung building, her fingers traced the rough stone which surrounded the window and she poked one small finger into a nook – she felt dust and grit beneath her touch.

A couple of minutes passed and the girl waited with silent patience until the boys reappeared. They did so, both with horses on hand. The creatures were partially tacked and rather flustered as their owners fiddled around with their bridles, stirrups and saddle adjustments. Both were jerking their heads irritably and snorting, hooves clacking beneath them as they shifted from foot to foot. Rain could see the whites of their eyes. She knew that the animals could sense something and they were not happy. They did not want to make this journey.

Just as one of the men tried to grab the halter of his horse, the animal reared violently, kicking out with its front hooves. He leapt back. Judging by his mouth, a torrent of curses had just been loosed. Rain smiled slightly to herself.

The horse continued to buck and stumble and writhe so much that the potential rider threw his hands up in the air in defeat. He turned to his fellow and said something. The other shrugged, let go of the harness of his own steed, and moved away, gesturing for his companion to follow.

Rain knew what was going to happen next.

Even from this distance, the small girl could make out the glow of the skinnier boy's eyes beneath his charcoal fringe. A golden glimmer reached her and she breathed in the magic, revelling in the immense power she was witnessing. The pair lifted gracefully in the air and then proceeded to soar above the battlements and the city, much to the astonishment of onlookers. Without the King to give them orders, they were at a loss to think what to do.

As she observed the two men leaving, the Irish child knew that she should have gone with them. She _needed _to go with them. Conri had made her promise.

Slipping down from the window seat, set in an alcove, that she had previously occupied, the youngster made her way quickly across the bare room. Her pale, bare feet made no noise on the cold, stone floor. Glancing out of the doorway, she looked both ways. The passageway was clear. It was time to make her getaway.

* * *

Arthur wasn't nervous. Not really. Prince Arthur _never _got nervous after all. He wasn't an easily perturbed person. However, leaving the fate of his land in the hands of a servant, in the hands of a sorcerer, that made him anxious. But then again, he needed to remind himself that Merlin was a combination of the two. He was an anomaly. Too different and complex to really be either a serving boy or a magician. Merlin was just....Merlin.

And Arthur _really _hoped he knew what he was doing because he sure as hell didn't.

As they flew through the cooling air, the prince stared down at the region below him and was relieved to see, following a dirt road at some speed, was his father's miniature army that was attempting to face the Shadows head on. There had to be about thirty men in total and Arthur could make out the King at the forefront. His pale, white steed was bright in the weakening sun – like a spirit floating through the trees. Just looking at his father's tense position, Arthur could tell he was preparing for a fierce battle. Hopefully, they would get there before him and diffuse the situation.

Up ahead, he could see the thirty dark shapes of the stones as the skimmed through the air. He glanced at his friend who was staring intently at silhouettes. Now that Merlin was, in essence, multi-tasking with his magic, he had to focus more and he seemed to prefer flying in silence. That was strange. Arthur wasn't used to a mute manservant. He really wanted to break the quiet. It was making him uncomfortable.

"So where exactly are you dropping these stones then?" Arthur asked, conversationally, "Can't you just dump them now? I mean it's better to get it over sooner rather than later, right?"

"No," Merlin shook his head, "Not now."

"How can you know 'not now'?" Arthur asked sceptically.

"I just _know_, Arthur, it's a sort of extra sense...to do with my magic."

"Well, tell me when your 'magic' decides it's time then, will you?" The Prince replied, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"Sure," Merlin nodded, absentmindedly. Arthur could tell he was no longer being listened to and it annoyed him but he supposed that the warlock had a right to be distracted. He was dealing with a lot at that moment in time.

* * *

Gwen was carrying an armful of laundry as she walked down the stone steps into the courtyard. They were Morgana's clothes: a mixture of dresses, robes, coats and undergarments, fresh off the washerwoman's line. She was planning on taking them to her mistress' chambers, placing them neatly in her wardrobe and then heading in the market to see if she could get some inexpensive meat for her meal tonight. Ever since her father had died, the handmaid had had to shop and cook for herself which was quite a lonely task. Prince Arthur may have promised her her home for life but she didn't want it if she lived alone. It was miserable. She lived for coming to the castle to work and be with her friends.

As she was about to take the last step down off the stair, Gwen caught sight of something in her peripherals. Pausing in her path, the woman turned her head and spotted a slight figure hurrying across the courtyard towards the stables. She also noticed that, oddly, two horses were wandering freely around the stone building, picking idly at weeds which had sprouted up between the cobbles with their velvety lips. Frowning, Gwen moved forwards as the figure reached one of the creatures and patted it once on the side. It didn't even flinch, despite being approached from outside its vision.

She knew the figure was Rain from her white-blonde hair which fell in waves down her back. It swished as her slender hand took the reins and she whispered softly in a cocked ear. Then she swung gracefully onto the horse's broad back. Gwen marvelled for a moment at how small the girl was compared to the beast she rode. Initially she had thought it impossible for the child to control the animal but it seemed she had some kind of power over the horse as it turned to the slightest touch. Squeezing her thighs, Rain broke into a canter.

Silently, girl and horse vanished out of the castle gates.

Gwen stared after them for a second, in shock, and then realised she should probably do something. She couldn't just let a young girl steal a castle horse, especially not a girl she had promised to look after. Arthur would never forgive her.

Dropping the laundry and sprinting over to the spare horse, the handmaid grabbed the animal's reins and was surprised as it lurched violently away - white eyes rolling in its sockets. "Hey, hey, calm down," Gwen stroked its neck but it shuddered and still tried to get away. Obviously it didn't want to be ridden. However, Gwen wasn't giving up that easily. "Right, now I need you to hold still."

She launched herself onto the animal's back. It stumbled but then finally seemed to surrender as she kicked it into a gallop. They tore after the others.

**I have decided that next chapter, when I write it, will have a lot more Merlin in because I've hardly had his POV for ages. Also, there will be Uther POV too. They'll be the main ones. Review.**


	26. Shock

**Just got on study leave. I had a half day and time on my hands so I tidied my room and then thought: 'I'm bored, what can I do? Oh, I know, I'll write some more .' Even though I said I wouldn't, I couldn't help myself. I need to finish it! This is the penultimate chapter and pretty damn long to make up for the last crappy one. I was going to write evn more and make this the last chapter but then it would be too long so decided against it. Instead I will leave you in suspense once more with my FINAL cliffhanger!**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

Merlin could feel a pull on his mind. It wasn't physical as such but he couldn't resist the gentle hand that led him on. He was like a child being guided by its mother; a dog by its master. There was little doubt that Arthur didn't understand, could never _comprehend_, the experience but the warlock forgave him for his impatience and ignorance. Arthur was a…what had Gwen called it?…'a rough, tough, save-the-world' type. He liked to be doing things, taking action and helping people. He was no good at the waiting game.

Merlin had been waiting all his life; waiting for a moment like this when he could prove to himself – and others – that he was not born with these gifts for nothing, that he wasn't a completely useless waste of space. It was _his_ chance to save the day. Or die trying.

When he was younger, he could never have imagined that he would be flying across the beautiful, rolling countryside with the Prince of Camelot on one side, supporting him in a quest to save the lands which they both cherished. His youthful self couldn't have conjured up such enemies as the Shadows nor such intricate, age-old prophesies which would lead to their demise. If he had been told as a child that he was wrapped up in the workings of a much greater power – that he had a destiny – he doubted he would've believed it. But things had changed. He'd changed: grown older and wiser.

Lost in his thoughts, Merlin was surprised when he felt, the once gentle, cerebral pull increase in strength. The stones had reached their destination. Carefully, he lowered them out of the sky. Then he turned to Arthur, the young man was facing the other way, surveying the world around him. He was savouring the rare view he was experiencing. His golden hair shimmered and rippled in the breeze.

"Arthur, we're here," the manservant stated, simply.

"About time too," Arthur retorted, turning to look at his friend – a nervous but excited smile graced his handsome features. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They began to descend – like two angels falling from the heavens.

The stones had landed in the exact circle in which they had left Ireland. A perfectly symmetrical ring of rocks, casting shadows on the grass beneath them. They were on a fairly flat plain of land, so they remained vertical and roughly the same height, none were tilted. Merlin was rather impressed at his handiwork but when he looked at his master to see if he felt the same way, the Prince looked nonplussed.

As they alighted on the warm earth, an annoyed Merlin decided to make Arthur grateful for the task he had just completed. He wouldn't just be taken for granted. Watching as the older man found his feet once more and wandered close to one of the rocks, touching it with his fingertips, Merlin smiled, mischievously, and his eyes flashed golden.

The rock which Arthur had touched wobbled and then fell sideways – much to his horror and absolute dismay. This initial stone then hit the one beside it and the next after that. The sound was deafening, like individual claps of thunder, as they all fell one by one. Wincing at each crack, Arthur stared with undisguised shock and terror at the ring which had, seemingly, been knocked down by him. Dust and debris was now rising from the fallen stones.

Merlin thoroughly enjoyed watching him gape like a confused fish, his arms crossed over his chest with his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"Arthur!" he said in a mock angry tone, after the din had finished, "_What _did you _do_?!"

Arthur turned to him with slightly worried but defensive eyes. It seemed he had found a newfound respect for Merlin now that he knew he was a magician because he would never have given his manservant an expression like that before.

"I-I…I didn't mean…..I only touched….I can't believe…." And then the youth saw his friend's face: Merlin was fighting back a gleeful smile. "_You_! You did it!"

"Well, obviously," the raven haired boy smirked, "I mean, you may think you're strong Arthur, but you're not _that _strong."

With a flicker of his topaz eyes, Merlin righted the stones. It took all of two seconds.

Arthur was about to say something smart in return, he wasn't sure what yet but he was sure he could come up with something to regain his pride, when he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Pausing mid-retort, the youth craned his neck to the sky and the breath caught in his throat when he saw the dark shapes outlined against the harsh, blue back-drop. They were here.

He touched Merlin's elbow to get his attention but he realised that the warlock had already spotted them too. His vivid blue eyes had hardened and his jaw had tightened.

Staring up at the fast approaching demons, Merlin knew that he had to act fast. He needed to form the mental bridge, like he had before, to protect himself and Arthur. That way the Shadows couldn't get to them and cause them any harm. However, he was exhausted and he knew this would probably be even harder than before. In fact, the magician knew that he had to have physical contact with his friend for this to work successfully.

Lurching out, he grabbed Arthur's hand and found it warm to the touch. His own skin was cool in the Prince's heated palm. Arthur glanced at his with startled and perplexed eyes.

"Merlin, this is no time for holding hands," the man began, irritated. "If you're scared then….just don't hold onto me!"

"Shut up, Arthur, and just hold my damn hand." Merlin had no time for petty arguments or protests. It wasn't as if he was hugging his master, he could understand then if Arthur had protests. Getting worked up over holding hands was just plain ridiculous. "This could save your life."

Seeing his manservant's intense expression, Arthur decided it was probably best to keep quiet. He pursed his lips in a tight line.

He had the stones, he had the Shadows, he had the mental shield and the spell. Merlin was all set. His list of needs was complete. Now all he needed to do was put them together and then defeat the demons. Not a hard task – well, not in theory.

"_umbra calx insum forca!_"

Merlin yelled his spell up at the Shadows and his eyes glowed once more. But nothing happened. The Shadows remained unscathed and free – and getting ever nearer. Panicking slightly, the warlock tried again.

"_umbra calx insum forca!_"

Still nothing.

Looking over to Arthur for support, Merlin was relieved to see a pair of earnest, encouraging sapphire orbs staring back at him. The Prince still believed in him, he thought that he should keep trying and not give up. But the thing was the warlock could feel the spell was not right. It was incomplete. He was missing something: a vital element that would allow him to entrap the Shadows in their stony prisons for eternity.

But what?!

* * *

Uther knew the stones had landed; his scout was up ahead and declared he had seen them drop just passed the line of trees, on an open flat of land. If they hurried then perhaps they would see who was meddling with nature and dabbling in magic and then they could stop them and arrest them. Actually, Uther would probably just order for them to be killed right on the spot. Someone with such sorcery as to move stones was surely not good, they would be extremely powerful. That's why the King was prepared for a battle. His men were prepared too, to fight to the death.

If he did die today, alone with his men, it would be a pity but it would be an honourable death. He would be killed protecting his kingdom and his people from the foe which he had always despised. It would just serve to be proof of his cause. Arthur would then understand what evil magic did. Uther knew his son was not as set on the battle against sorcery as he was but perhaps if he, Uther Pendragon, died at the hands of magic then the Prince would change his mind.

The trees were thinning around them and the track which they were following was becoming wider as they reached open ground. Soon the army could span to its full width and not be squashed by the narrow passage through the forest. They would certainly be a formidable sight to any sorcerer seeing them coming, Uther was certain.

It was as they were right at the edge of the woodland, and Uther's horse's head had just passed by the denser foliage that a whirlwind whipped by. In truth, looking back, the King was astonished how they could have got by _all _the soldiers without being noticed or stopped. He supposed it was just testament to how fast they were going that they were on the field before anyone could react. At the time, though, all Uther could think about was: what on _earth _is a small girl doing riding a thoroughbred horse much too big for her?

He had stared dumbly after her for a moment before realising that she could have something to do with the flying rocks and speeding after her. His men followed, their horse's hooves pounding on the soft grassy terrain.

Uther drew closer to the stones and registered their shape: a perfect circle. How unnatural. He also somehow noticed, in his split-second observation that they were not made from stone around here. It was not local rock. But other than that, he had little time to look at the ring of stones for his attention was drawn, first to the three figures standing in the centre of the circle and then to the black creatures darkening the sunlight sky. _Shadows_.

Doing a double take, King Uther realised who the taller figures were: Prince Arthur and his manservant; one blonde, one raven haired. They had appeared, finally, in the place that the king had least expected. The girl was with them; she had slipped down from her overlarge mount and was gesturing frantically to the men. They both stared as she brandished her small hands up to the sky.

Scanning the land around him, Uther realised, much to his shock and consternation that the trio were the only humans in the area. One of them had to be behind the sorcery. Well, one of two of them. However, because they all had their backs to him, it was difficult to know exactly what was going on or who was speaking. He couldn't hear anything over the wind that was suddenly picking up.

A droplet of water landed abruptly on the King's head. He blinked in surprise. Looking up to the heavens, he was astounded to see that the sky that had once been a clear blue was now blemished with charcoal black clouds. They were swollen and ready to burst at any moment. A fork of lightning harpooned across the blackness and, right over head, the deep, rumble of thunder could be heard. As if this was a signal, the rain poured down in earnest.

Where had that storm suddenly come from? Uther wanted to know.

* * *

It was the storm. Merlin wanted to kick himself for being so stupid. Everything made sense now: Conrí's insistence that Rain was important to them; the mention of rain in the prophecy; and the presence of rain when they first encountered the Shadows on Mount Killaraus. Rain had been the one to find the imprisoned demon after all. Actually, even as he thought about it, if there hadn't been a storm on the ship then they would never have ended up stranded and in need of help. They wouldn't have found the little girl or Conrí. This had all be planned by a higher power.

Merlin needed a storm for the spell to work. And to conjure up a storm he needed Rain, who seemed to also have a gift. A gift to predict the weather – he remember Conrí saying about the girl knowing when it was going to rain – and now it seemed she could also control it. The skies just blackened around her as she lifted her pale arms into the air.

Conrí had known this would happen all along, the manservant knew it. He had known what the prophecy meant, he had named Rain after all (they had never even questioned the strange name) but he had left them to work it out for themselves. And now Merlin _had _worked it out.

"_When darkness and shadows descend upon the earth, enemies must unite to defeat the evil which threatens to consume the land; bringing death and terror. Seeking the assistance of a ring of giants is the only way the nightmare can be quashed. Magic and metal must join with rain and stone to destroy the common foe before everything is lost._"

'Darkness and shadows,' that was obviously the Shadows who brought death to the people and terrified them. 'The ring of giants,' Merlin now understood was the Giant's Ring. 'Magic' that was him and 'metal' that was Arthur must join with 'rain' that meant Rain and 'stone' the stones of Ireland to defeat them. It all fitted together.

Merlin's heart swelled with excitement and power, knowing that he had everything he needed on side to defeat the demons, and he opened his mouth once more to say the spell which would not 'destroy' but entrap the Shadows forever.

"_umbra calx insum forca!_"

As if being sucked into a whirlpool, the black shapes in the sky let out strangely ethereal and unearthly cries of pain and fear, as they began to be pulled towards the stones, which would serve as their coffins for the rest of time. The three figures below watched, enraptured, as each Shadow vanished into a pillar. A pillar that they would be entombed in for the thousands of years, unable to hurt anyone.

The stones would be moved, lifted, stolen, worshipped at and changed in shape but the Shadows would always remain there – silent prisoners.

And the world would be a better place.

**Wow, I feel so clever, like a proper writer for having dropped hints and clues throughout the whole story about the prophecy and all the bits that led up to this bit. It all links and fits like a jigsaw! yay! I hope you liked the domino effect of the stones. **

**Ooh, also, don't worry, I havent forgotten Gwen. Next chapter. She'll be there. Along with an irate Uther....mwhaha!**

**Second Ooh! I have also decided, after watching Robin Hood this year, that I definately prefer Merlin. Its way better. **


	27. Sacrifice

**Thanks for the reviews. Okay, I said this was the last chapter but as I wrote so much and I wanted a happy, soppy ending to finish off I also wrote an epilogue. So review this chapter and then that one. PLEASE. As I am uploading them both now. **

**Then I will be officially finite!**

"Arthur, get away from there!"

A familiar voice snapped the trio out of their silent, shared relief and they all turned to see Uther Pendragon thundering towards them, flanked by his soldiers. His face was purple with a mixture of outrage and badly disguised shock. As he drew closer, he pulled his horse to a halt in front of them and the creature snorted and stamped its feet. He remained seated on his mount, feeling more powerful and less at risk atop the impressive animal. It wasn't that he was scared. No, never. He was just using the objects he had to his advantage.

"Father." Arthur stepped towards him, a puzzled expression muddling his features; his forehead creased. "What are you doing here?"

"Arthur, listen to me, get away from there."

Still confused, the young Prince moved away from his current position, not sure what his father wanted him to do but complying anyway. He didn't defy the king's instructions often. The need to obey was ingrained within his very skin – ever since he was a child.

Merlin and Rain stood alone among the pillars of stone – exposed and vulnerable. The manservant's dark-blue eyes followed the King's every move with intense scrutiny. For a moment, Arthur wondered why he looked so wary, like a cornered animal who knew that his time was up, and then he realised; just too late.

"Which one of you did it?" King Uther demanded and spittle flew from his lips. "Which one of you _lowlifes_ is the scum who performed magic, in Camelot, where it is strictly forbidden?"

Both man and child remained silent, their eyes impassive.

"Answer me!" Uther commanded, his grey eyes dancing with anger. When he still received no answer, the king paused, surveying the pair with a hawkish gaze. "I know one of you did it, one of you _moved _the stones and I also believe one of you have control over those demons. You released them into my kingdom. So, if you will not tell me then I will call on my son. Arthur, who was it?"

The young man started. He felt the heated gaze of his father upon him, willing him to give him the answer he wanted. The stares of the soldiers also bore into him from every which angle – they respected him, they expected him to do the right thing in order to help the King. And finally, he felt Merlin's eyes watching him with a kind of gentle resignation.

Arthur's skin grew hot with the attention, usually he revelled in the spotlight but this time he wished he was invisible. He wished a hole would appear and swallow him up. Then he wouldn't have to face this decision – this life changing, heartbreaking decision. Arthur knew what he had to say, Merlin knew it too, but it would devastate him to do it. There was no way he could implicate Rain in all of this, she was a mere child and he had promised to protect her. She had her whole, beautiful life ahead of her; he wasn't going to let Uther take that away from her.

But then there was Merlin.

It was true, Merlin was the one to have performed the magic and therefore was the guilty party but how could he be guilty of saving hundreds of lives? Magic was not a curse but a gift; Arthur understood that now, if such a gift was in the right hands no end of good could be done. Merlin was a new generation, a brilliant light in a world of suffocating darkness. He was the hope – for everyone. By simply admitting the truth, Arthur would be destroying that hope. How _could _he? It was unjust; unfair.

He glanced fleetingly at his manservant again and was met once more with those calm blue eyes. Merlin's lips were tightly closed and his raven hair was damp from the rain, even blacker than usual. His position seemed to be unimposing but yet Arthur could still detect an undercurrent of pure power emanating from him, as if it were seeping from his very pores. Fortunately, Uther didn't seem to have that same intuition for he was still waiting for an answer.

"It's a simple question, Arthur," Uther urged, impatiently, "Was it the girl or the man?"

Time was running out; Arthur needed to think fast or else his father would reach the end of his tether and execute them both.

To condemn Merlin to death, though, he just could not do it. His throat was so dry that he doubted whether he could speak even if he wanted to. The young warlock had saved his life on so many accounts and for him to allow his father to kill him was just...wrong. But what could he do? Short of taking the blame himself.

Taking the blame himself...

"Well, as my son seems to have become temporarily mute, then I think I will have to act without his knowledge. Kill them both."

"No," Arthur blurted out, finally.

Uther looked pleased. "Yes?"

"It was me," the Prince declared, "I did it." His face gave nothing away, a blank canvas.

The King looked first confused and then livid. The colour of his skin turned an ugly shade of purple. He brandished a finger at his son, like he was admonishing him for something as trivial as stealing a bread roll from the kitchen. His forehead furrowed into deep lines.

"_Don't _be ridiculous, Arthur," Uther hissed. "This is no time for jokes. I don't expect lies from you in such an important matter."

"It's no joke, Father," Arthur replied, his expression hard.

"Oh, of course it's not true. You cannot perform magic. You are taking the fall for one of them, but I am not fooled. I can understand it if you are protecting the girl, it is in your nature to be merciful to children. However, I didn't realise just how attached you had grown to that manservant of yours. Enough to attempt to give your life for his. How very stupid. Can you not see how dangerous sorcery is, how it destroys people?"

"Father," Arthur persisted, "I am telling you: I did it."

"And I am telling you it's treasonous to lie to your king but I will let you off, just this once, if you tell me which one did it! Tell me, _Arthur_!"

"It was _me_." The young man persisted but he was growing more desperate as his father was not caving.

"Right, that was your last chance. Your opinion no longer matters. They are both guilty by association."

* * *

Uther offered a definitive nod to one of his soldiers and they stepped forward, drawing their sword from its sheath. The _shing _of the metal caused Merlin's heart to jump. He had tried to keep calm up until this point and he had succeeded for the most part – he wasn't shaking uncontrollably and his knees hadn't given out. Nevertheless, with the soldier approaching him, his resolve was certainly faltering. Still, he had Rain beside him and he couldn't show fear, for her sake.

Taking the small child by her tiny hand, he tugged her behind him and shielded her fragile form with his body. It wouldn't do much in the long term but he felt better protecting her; his head cleared because of it. Now he remembered, he had someone else to care for, someone else to look out for and make sure they were safe. He wasn't going to let anything happen to Rain. She didn't deserve to die so young.

And if that meant using his magic to get her out of this predicament and completely revealing his long-kept secret then so be it.

* * *

"No! You can't do this, Father!" Arthur was yelling now. Merlin was startled and so, it seemed, was the King. However, he recovered swiftly and signalled for his guards to block the young prince. Arthur struggled fiercely against the strength of three soldiers who had a great task holding back the brute force of the man. "Let me past! God damn you! You can't kill them. They're innocent."

"Nobody who performs magic is innocent, Arthur, you would do well to learn that."

"But they saved the kingdom. Without them, we'd all perish!"

"So you admit it? They performed magic?"

"No!"

Continuing to push in vain against the strong arms of the King's men, Arthur's wild eyes connected with Merlin's and icy blue irises clashed violently. The manservant gave an almost imperceptive shake of his dark head. He didn't want the Prince making a fuss but Arthur was going to be damned if he didn't.

Just as he was about to make another lunge on the soldiers, Arthur caught sight of the colour of his friend's eyes. No longer were they blue but glowing golden. Glancing at his father, the Prince saw that his father was yet to notice. Merlin could easily escape. But was that the right thing to do, in the short term it would save both his and Rain's lives but in the long term....there would be no turning back. The warlock would completely implicate himself. Never again would the youth be able to return to the castle, Arthur would never see him again.

And then he was struck with an idea. It was dangerous and could end up in his own death but it was all he had.

* * *

Merlin had left it long enough. Now was the time to act. Making sure that he had Rain's hand securely in his own, the boy flashed his eyes at his master to make sure he knew what was going on. In essence, this was goodbye. Arthur stared back, his eyes anxious for a moment and then they changed. They hardened with determination.

"Father. _Stop_." Instead of just shouting, the Prince's voice was loud, calm and firm. There was a new element of authority in his tone. A tone that would not broker an argument.

"Good lord, Arthur, this is the law of the land."

"And I am telling you that I am the sorcerer; not Merlin, not Rain: me. And before you tell me to stop lying, let me prove it to you. First though, leave them alone."

Uther turned to his son with astonished eyes. He couldn't believe that the boy was taking it this ludicrously far. Of course Arthur was not a sorcerer, the King knew that. One would notice if a member of their household, especially their one and only son, could perform magic. Besides, where on earth would he learn such a cursed skill? However, if Arthur insisted on taking it this far then Uther would humour him. When he failed though, the real sorcerers would be killed and the Prince would be severely punished back at the castle.

Signalling with his hand, Uther stopped the soldiers and looked expectantly at his son. "Go on then." His tone was challenging; goading.

"All right then." Arthur nodded, taking a deep breath and glancing at his friend. Merlin was staring back at him with a worried and hesitant expression gracing his pale features. He didn't like where the Prince was going with this. Arthur offered him a firm and assured gaze in return. Hopefully, Merlin got the message. "Here we go."

Arthur braced himself.

* * *

With everyone's focus on the young blond man, Merlin and Rain were left unwatched. Therefore, the warlock could perform the task needed of him. Surreptitiously, his irises became tawny. Nobody noticed. Instead, they all gasped in shock and awe as Arthur rose slowly into the air. Fortunately, he had held his body upright so he looked natural and experienced – like he was in control. No one would know that he was not the one holding the reins.

Merlin honestly had to hold back a small smirk when he saw the expression on Uther's face. He looked dumbstruck. This was something he could never have expected. He had no idea what to do.

"I-I...." the King stammered. Never before had he been so speechless.

* * *

Feeling more empowered by his significant height advantage, Arthur felt now would be the best time to get his point across. Gathering his thoughts and ideas in his head, the Prince set his face in a sincere expression.

"As you can see, Father, I am the one that can perform magic. My manservant and the girl only remained mute in order to save me. This has not been a long term thing. I have only recently acquired the skill. Whilst in Ireland, I discovered the only way to defeat the Shadows was to perform sorcery and entrap them, as you saw, in those stones. Therefore, I learnt from a hermit the necessary spell – and a few extras at the time such as levitation. It was for the good of the people. That was the only reason I did it. Merlin, here, offered to sacrifice himself but I told him that it would endanger his life too much, at times such as this. Unfortunately, my plan seemed to backfire." Arthur gestured, pointedly, to the swords and soldiers. "But the Shadows are trapped and Albion is saved. If you want to kill me, then do so. I have only done what you asked of me."

Merlin was astounded at the speed at which Arthur improvised and spun the tale of his magical journey. He doubted whether he could have adlibbed so successfully, the last time he'd tried a simple lie to the King he'd failed and got put in the stocks. Such a complex story would never have come to mind so quickly. Obviously, Arthur had lots of experience. Not only had he explained everything perfectly but he had also made it seem if his father killed him then it would be completely unfair as he had asked for this to be done. In essence, it was his fault.

"Um...I....you did this to defeat the Shadows?" Uther finally asked.

"Yes."

Looking at Uther, he seemed to be having an inner battle and no one could work out the outcome. Arthur's heartbeat increased tenfold. Finally, his face unclouded and cleared – he had reached a decision.

"My son, you have done all I asked and more. Sometimes you need to break the rules in order to rescue the bigger picture. You used your initiative and I think I would have done the same thing in your place. You have used an enemy's weapon to our advantage; exactly what you are meant to do in warfare. Just because you used magic doesn't make you a sorcerer. You borrowed it."

_You've changed your tune, _Arthur thought, drily.

"In fact, now that we have you with such skills then we will be considerably better off. This is wonderful. They won't know what's hit them. Of course, I would only entrust such a great power to you, Arthur, because I know you will use it well." Uther was positively beaming. His soldiers, who had initially looked befuddled, now looked excited and relieved. "We must go back to the castle and celebrate the defeat of the Shadows and your return home."

Merlin knew it: Uther could never blame his son. He also knew not to hope for an apology that would undoubtedly never come. He should be happy enough to walk away with his life. Still clutching Rain's hand, the youth smiled down at her and she smiled back. They both began to trail after the Prince, King and all their men. Arthur had been given one of the soldiers' horses and the unseated man was now walking. Uther was busy laughing and clapping his son on the back.

Once again, Merlin slipped into the shadows, out of the limelight. But he preferred it that way. Never again would he wish for the credit; it wasn't worth it.

* * *

Unseen by anyone, Guinevere slipped out from her hiding place, behind one of the large stone pillars and stared after the departing group. Despite what everyone else had seen, she certainly hadn't missed what had really gone on. Not that she would ever say. It was Merlin's secret, not hers, he would reveal it when he so wished.

**Haha! One last bit to go! REVIEW!**


	28. Epilogue

**Oh dear lord, this is it. The end of this epic journey of a fic. Ha, not really epic but still, I can be melodramatic if I want because its the end! duh duh duuuuh! Man, this has been a long haul. Thanks to everyone for sticking through it with me and supporting, reviewing, PMing, constructive critisising and all that jazz. Its been a pleasure writing for you guys.**

**Look out for my new story that I told you about, if I ever get round to writing it.**

**You have no idea how much it is a relief to finish this story! Can you review one last time to give me an overall opinion? Thanks!**

**Epilogue**

Clothed in a dark blue dress, embroidered with pale blue and white daisies around the hem, the slim girl picked her way daintily along the forest trail. Her bare feet padded silently on the leaf-strewn, moss-carpeted earth; they were pale, just like the rest of her, but powdered with a thin coat of dust and dirt. Down her back, fell her snowy-blonde hair, a soft, silky waterfall that cascaded over her slender shoulders and rippled in the gentle breeze. Occasionally, she would reach out a run her small hands over the rough bark of a tree trunk or the shiny, waxen leaf from a green plant. She revelled in the different textures that graced her fingertips. Plucking a ripe berry from a nearby bush, she popped it into her mouth and smiled as a small dribble of red juice rolled down her chin. It was strangely stark against her porcelain-white skin.

Behind her four figures walked. They were talking casually whilst still maintaining a watchful eye on the wandering child. Three dark haired and one blond; two girls and two boys; two servants and two nobles....and yet they made a companionable group. A group of friends who trusted one another implicitly.

As the sun was particularly bright and it glared fiercely down on the land below, despite being partially blocked by overhanging branches, both boys had their shirts off and were enjoying soaking up the rays on their hot backs. The girls had stripped down to only their flimsy underskirts in order to keep cool; they were not afraid to do this in such seclusion and in the company they held, for they knew they would be protected should any unsavoury characters come by. A flask of water was passed continually between them.

"So, Arthur, how did it go with your father today?" Merlin asked, a smirk twitching his lips.

"You damn well know how it went, Merlin," Arthur retorted, raising his eyebrows.

"But Gwen and Morgana don't know, do you?" The two girls shook their heads.

Arthur offered his friend a half-annoyed grimace. "Father wanted me to perform some magic."

Gwen gasped. "He didn't?! He hasn't asked you to do that in ages."

"I know," the prince replied, in agreement. "Well, anyway, Merlin said he was busy so he couldn't come. What were you doing in fact, Merlin?"

"Stuff," Merlin answered with a half-hearted shrug.

"And so that left me to fob my father off. I told him I'd forgotten how to do it. I mean, it has been eight months."

"You can't _forget _how to do magic," Merlin snorted, condescendingly.

"Well, considering I couldn't actually do magic in the first place, I think I'm allowed to forget what I can't do."

"Point taken," Merlin conceded.

As they were talking, Rain had paused on the path and was staring off into the foliage. Her dark eyes reflected the trees and the wildlife back in them. Her entire frame had tensed and her gaze flicked back and forth between the trunks. So far, none of the adults had noticed her strange behaviour. For once, she didn't have their undivided attention

Rain was practically adopted by all four of them; they adored looking after her and spending time with her. Merlin enjoyed teaching the child about spells and enchantments in the physician's chambers with the help of Gaius. Arthur enjoyed protecting her like the little sister he never had, though he also enjoyed teaching her the kinds of physical things such as how to swim and shoot an arrow. Morgana loved to brush her hair and help her dress up, Rain loved it too. And Gwen, Gwen just loved talking to the little girl and learning her hand signals; she loved to go on their walks out in the castle grounds and the town. It tended to be Gwen that Rain spent the most time with, mainly because she lived with her in her little house. No longer did the handmaiden have to be lonely.

Over the past eight months a lot of things had changed. For one thing, Arthur was permitted to use magic in cases of emergency but other than that Uther still ruled with an iron fist. Now Arthur knew about Merlin, the servant was more respected and was treated _slightly _better by his master. They still mocked and teased each other mercilessly. After a series of mishaps and badly hidden spells, both Morgana and Gwen (who had technically already known) found out about Merlin's magic; and Arthur's lack of magic. Fortunately, it seemed neither of them cared. It had also brought the whole group much closer together.

Finally, Merlin noticed that Rain had halted and he glanced in the direction she was looking. His mouth literally fell open when he saw what she had spotted. It was a wolf. For a moment he was worried it was wild and that it would attack the little girl but then he realised something: the wolf wasn't a solid being. He could still see the shadows of trees and plants through it. The animal was a ghost. A ghost he recognised – the similar friendly silver muzzle and sharp, dark eyes. It was the ghost of a long lost friend.

Looking over at his companions, he saw that none of them showed any signs of having seen it. Perhaps it was a vision that only he and Rain could share. Whatever it was, he was glad he had seen it. It warmed his heart.

"Hey, look," Gwen broke into his thoughts, "We've reached the beach."

She was right. They had reached their destination. The gentle sloping beach of grey sand that shone silver in the bright sunlight. They had come here for Rain's sake, so she could see her homeland. It had taken a couple of days travel but it was worth it to see her face. Her pale features lit up with undisguised delight and she hurried down the sand to the rolling waves.

"Fancy going back?" Merlin asked, conversationally. He jerked his head in the direction of the sea.

"To Ireland?" Arthur replied.

"Yeah."

"No way. Besides, my father banned me." Arthur grinned, shaking his head.

"For fear that you will pass over to the dark side," Merlin said, putting on a fake menacing voice. Then he said in a exaggerated manner. "To be honest, its pretty fun on the dark side. I don't think you'd like it. Perhaps you shouldn't come." The warlock smirked and dodged out of the way as Arthur tried to hit him. They all laughed, heartily, staring out to sea as a couple of gulls cried overhead.

As he surveyed the calm blue waters, Merlin could've sworn he saw the faint shape of a wolf loping back to Ireland across the waves.

**Sorry about the ghost thing but I wanted to include wolves and Conri so....thats what you got. Review! And thank you so much again!**


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